Rowdy, the Mighty Barking Mouse, King of All Mice - New Project

Rowdy is not a normal dog.

Go-Diddy says Rowdy is a terrible puppy, but a beautiful mouse.

Everyone laughs when he says it. Rowdy wags his whole body because he thinks “beautiful mouse” is a compliment.

The problem is, Rowdy belongs to Harbor for responsibility.

Harbor is supposed to take care of him and he gets paid a lot of money from Dad to do so - something like $100 a month!

Harbor, instead, has become a professional Couch Growth.

He grows on the couch. He plays video games. He grows into the couch some more. He becomes 1 with the couch. When he’s not playing video games, he’s crying because Mom said “go outside.” He doesn’t want to do anything else. He just sits there, growing into the couch.

Ocean calls him a dingus. Harbor says that hurts his feelings when he doesn’t get his way. Then he goes back to growing into the couch.

Meanwhile, Rowdy — who hasn’t had a bath in months — sits on the floor and licks the Couch Growth. First the feet. Then the armpits. Then Harbor’s fake mustache he wore for Spirit Week and never took off.

“Ew, Rowdy!” Harbor yells, without pausing his game.

Rowdy thinks that means “more.” Harbor secretly likes it.

Because the Couch Growth is busy growing into the couch, Rowdy gets left unattended. Sometimes his bowl is empty. Sometimes for a long time. (Mom always finds it and fills it and gives Harbor The Look, but that’s later.)

So Rowdy does what any self-respecting barking mouse does.

He escapes.

There’s a loose board in the fence. Rowdy squeezes through it like toothpaste. He trots across the yard, past the U.S.S. Grandpa, and dives straight under the shed.

That’s where they live.

The yard mice.

Dozens of them. Tiny. Whiskery. Living their best shed life.

Rowdy — who is approximately 47 times bigger than a normal mouse — waddles in.

The mice freeze.

Then, slowly, they all bow.

One mouse faints.

Rowdy stands there, dirty, unbathed, smelling faintly of Harbor’s feet, and accepts his crown.

Bitty found him first.

“ROWDY!” she yelled, lifting the shed skirt. “What are you doing?”

Dassah peeked in. “He king!”

It was true. Rowdy was sitting on an overturned flowerpot like a throne. The mice were bringing him offerings: a Cheerio, a dead beetle, a LEGO brick.

Go-Diddy came over with the flashlight. He looked at Rowdy, then at the mice, then at Harbor still on the couch visible through the window.

“Well,” Dad said, “he’s a terrible puppy, but he’s a beautiful mouse. King of all mice.”

Everyone laughed. Even Harbor laughed... from the couch. Rowdy barked once, very proudly, which in mouse language probably meant “bring me more snacks.”

Rowdy spent the whole afternoon on his royal tour.

He inspected the compost pile (royal buffet). He chased his tail in front of his subjects (royal dance). He tried to fit through the mouse hole and got stuck (royal embarrassment).

Ocean narrated: “And here we see the Barking Mouse in his natural habitat, ruling with an iron paw.”

Harbor finally peeled himself off the couch — mostly because Mom threatened to unplug the Wi-Fi — and came out with Rowdy’s leash.

“Sorry, Rowdy,” he said, and he actually sounded sorry. “I’ve been a dingus.”

Rowdy licked his fake mustache in forgiveness.

Dad hooked the leash on. “Your Majesty, time to go home. Your kingdom will wait.”

As they walked back, the mice lined up at the edge of the shed and waved their tiny hands. Or paws.

That night, Harbor gave Rowdy a bath. It took three towels, the whole backyard hose, and Go-Diddy holding him, but it happened.

Rowdy smelled like soap instead of feet and armpits for the first time in months.

He sat on the couch — on Harbor’s lap, because the Couch Growth had finally moved — and sighed a big, happy, kingly sigh.

Bitty scratched his ears. “Good job, King Rowdy.”

Dassah whispered, “Bow to king!”

And Rowdy, the barking mouse, the terrible puppy, the beautiful mouse, the Mighty Mouse Dog, King of All Mice, barked once, rolled over, and fell asleep on Harbor’s video game controller.

Harbor didn’t even cry about it.