The Cat Who Believed in Invisible Mice

Barnaby was a practical cat. He believed in what he could see, smell, and catch. He hunted in the barn, the field, and the woods—places where mice were known to be. One day, an old, mystical-looking crow told him, "The sweetest mice, Barnaby, are not in the fields you can see, but in the ones you can only imagine. They are mice of spirit, and you hunt them with belief." Barnaby scoffed. Invisible mice in invisible fields? It sounded like a fool’s errand. He continued his practical hunting, catching his usual small, scrawny barn mice. Yet, the crow’s words lingered. One night, under a full moon, feeling a strange pull, he sat in the middle of an empty field. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. He pictured a field of shimmering, silver grass. He imagined the scent of sweet, plump spirit-mice. He focused his intent, his belief, putting all his energy into this "invisible hunt." He felt ridiculous. But he stayed, waiting in the quiet dark, holding onto the slimmest sliver of faith. Suddenly, a shimmer in the air before him. A mouse, larger and more radiant than any he had ever seen, materialized from the moonlight. It was made of starlight and tasted of pure joy. It was more satisfying than a dozen real mice. Barnaby, stunned and humbled, understood. The greatest treasures are not always the ones we can prove exist, but the ones we have the faith to pursue.