editorial notes: the cat and mouse in partnership

Every so often, I like to flex my editorial muscles by helping out a friend. I also have this back-burner goal to become, like, a PhD-level savant of All Things Fairy Tales. Today I thought I’d pay it forward by providing pro bono editing work for The Brothers Grimm, because OH BOY are their stories UM problematic at best. (This one features super casual animal cruelty, unnamed/confusing characters, and a lack of clarity surrounding the ending. How did these guys get published?)

Anyway, just thought I’d make my commentary available in case TBG are interested in providing the world with a much-needed rewrite.

Follow along: https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm002.html 

Our tale (tail?) begins with a tender interspecies love story…

• One cat and one mouse decided to enter into a domestic partnership, but tbh it sounds off the top like the cat’s wayyyy more invested in the situation than the mouse. Apparently the cat ‘had said so much to [the mouse] about the great love and friendship she felt for her’, and the mouse was like, k. So they’re gonna move in with each other. 
• The cat wisely noted that they needed to prep for the upcoming winter…and that the mouse’s size limited her foraging options. 
• Accordingly they bought ‘a pot of fat’ (research: is this what mice and cats eat?). They brought it home, and they did not know where to put it. 
• The cat mulled it over, and after much thought, decided to put it in the nearby church instead of their home, because (her reasoning) no one steals anything from churches. (…) In fact, they put it directly underneath the altar in said church, planning to leave it there until they presumably need it midwinter. 
• But the cat got pretty hungry shortly after they ‘hid’ it, so she devised a cunning plan. She decides to lie to her domestic partner/roommate (relationship unclear), spinning a long-winded story about the fact that she was going to be involved in the christening of a remote family member.
• The mouse says, yeah, by all means, go to the christening; but bring me home some wine, k? (I am empathizing heavily with the mouse in this weird scenario)
• Helpful note from Grimms: ‘All this was untrue! The cat had no cousin, and had not been asked to be godmother!’ Bit of a strange way to stack those revelations, but, sure.
• Predictable cat is predicable: She heads to the church and starts to go to town on the pot of fat hidden under the altar. After which she goes on a sunny walk, apparently licking her lips the entire way just thinking about the pot of fat? Maybe it was bacon fat, or like really good broth. Anyway, the cat spends actual hours a) eating the fat and b) daydreaming about said fact on a day-long walk before c) returning home to lie, like, profusely to the mouse. 
• The mouse asks some questions about how the cat’s day’s gone, one of which is simple: What did they name the baby? (You know, at the christening that didn’t happen?)
• The cat shows immediately why cats don’t do improv by replying “Top off.”
• Mouse is the audience stand-in, here: “Top off! That’s a very odd and uncommon name. Is it a usual one in your family?” (In the mouse’s defense, we all know that cats have very curious, particular, singular names. LAUNCHES INTO MONOLOGUE FROM BROADWAY’S CATS)
• The cat goes on the defensive. “It’s no worse than Crumb-stealer, as your god-children are called.” I’m going to take the mouse’s side, here: Crumb-stealer is not a flattering name, but it’s a descriptive one. Top-off….does not make sense as a name. It sounds vaguely dismissive or insulting, in fact, maybe? Like if someone were to call you that?
• Anyway, it’s not long before the cat wants the fat again. (I can’t wait to get to what the Grimms think the moral of this story is.) This time, the cat tells the mouse she’s got to go to another christening before heading to the church and eating half of the remaining fat. “Nothing ever seems so good as what one keeps to oneself,” said the cat to herself, satisfied. Aha, methinks we’re getting to a moral….are we gonna go the direction of ‘everything tastes better when you share it’ or w/e? 
• When the cat gets home, the mouse casually wants to know what the name of the kid was. (I’m so excited for this.)
• “Half-done!” Answered the cat. 
• The mouse, again, acting as literally all of us, says—“I never heard that name in my life! I’ll wager anything it’s not in the calendar of saints!” (The mouse is correct. She wins her wager.)
• The sun goes down; the sun comes up. It’s a new day. And…the cat’s hungry again. 
• “All good things go in threes,” she said. “I’m going to be a godmother again.” She launched into a lengthy description of the patterns on the fur and paws of the kitten she’s lying about, which, like, that’s not the issue with your lies, girl. 
• The mouse knows this. “So, your cousins’ kids are named Top-off and Half-Done,” said the mouse. The cat says something snide about how the mouse sits at home all day, which isn’t very nice; and then the cat goes and eats the rest of the fat.
• AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and now I get what the names mean. (If you’re playing along and you got it like a long time ago, please note your victory in the comments.) 
• The cat comes home and declares that today’s child was christened All-Gone, which is incredibly freaking ominous for a baptismal situation. Or any situation. “What’s your kid’s name?” “All gone!” It’s like, the Teletubbies version of talking about a murder. Anyway. 
• The mouse is perplexed. “All-gone! What can it mean?????” And then she goes to sleep.
• I’m suspecting that we’re not actually going to get a moral of the story, here, and it troubles me. 
• Surprisingly, nobody else asks the cat to be a godmother for an oddly-named kitten. 
• The cat and mouse eat all the food they have in their home, and, soon, the mouse is like, heyyyyyy. It’s February. Let’s maybe get the fat? 
• The cat has a cryptic response. “You will enjoy it as much as you would enjoy sticking that dainty tongue of yours out of the window.” 13 May 2021: The first day in my life I ever thought about a mouse’s tongue. Also: Given what the cat knows: What the hell does this mean????
• The cat and mouse head to the church. They find the pot of fat. It is empty. The cat is the absolute dumbest villain of the story, but I digress. 
• In a flash of understanding, the mouse realizes what has happened. She starts yelling at the cat, and then—
• The cat eats her, for “that is the way of the world.” And, no kidding, the story ends there. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

What on earth did we learn here? No, like, really, I’m asking. 

Lie to your partner, but, like, reallyyyyyyy badly, and only to a certain extent? 

Some animals (predator and prey) just like really shouldn’t be partners? 

Fat is surprisingly delicious? 

Read into sinister nicknames and weird lingual patterns when your lying weirdo partner drops them into weird conversations? 

And THAT ENDING. It actually reminds me of Norse mythology, wherein the actual end to every actual story is—no matter whether it included Thor or not or if it was a happy or a sad story or WHATEVER—every single story ends with “And, anyway, Thor killed everyone with his hammer.” (Maybe next week I’ll do couple of Norse myths to prove my point—they’re abs hilarious.) 

Anyway, until next time. The next Grimm story is called “Our Lady’s Child,” which is sure to be unsettling because um THAT’S JESUS and I’m sure it’s gonna be weird. Get excited. If you followed along and noticed anything else weird/crazy, type em below!