She's taught that they are evil-until one saves her family.
Strawberry the mouse has always believed rats are dangerous. Her father, Rhubarb, made sure of that. But when a devastating flood destroys her home, she's forced to survive alongside the very creatures she fears most.
Then, the unthinkable happens-a rat named Barnabas risks his own life to save her family.
Could her father be wrong?
Now Strawberry must find the courage to question what she's been told...and help her father see the truth before it's too late.
Inspired by the real 2013 Boulder, Colorado, floods, Redeeming Rhubarb is a thrilling and heartfelt adventure about courage and choosing kindness over fear.
She's taught that they are evil-until one saves her family.
Strawberry the mouse has always believed rats are dangerous. Her father, Rhubarb, made sure of that. But when a devastating flood destroys her home, she's forced to survive alongside the very creatures she fears most.
Then, the unthinkable happens-a rat named Barnabas risks his own life to save her family.
Could her father be wrong?
Now Strawberry must find the courage to question what she's been told...and help her father see the truth before it's too late.
Inspired by the real 2013 Boulder, Colorado, floods, Redeeming Rhubarb is a thrilling and heartfelt adventure about courage and choosing kindness over fear.
It was a cool, crisp night in Boulder, Colorado, with a refreshing pine scent in the air. The breeze carried the aroma of lodgepoles and ponderosa pines, rustling the leaves of the Douglas firs lining Mesa Drive, which wound up the hillside. Mountain chickadees, house finches, and black-billed magpies chirped and buzzed, filling the night with their natural symphony. Clear skies revealed stars twinkling over the Flatirons, and life felt peaceful.
In an abandoned factory near Mesa Drive, Strawberry, a young mouse, lived with her family and a few other mice, who had turned old offices into cozy homes. Over the years, mice from the factory had made regular scavenging trips to the Goodwill Dumpster on 28th Street and nearby neighborhood trash bins, gathering toys. Scraps of fabric and bits of paper found in the factory were used to fill mattresses for doll beds. Other toy furniture was used for chairs and couches. During the day, the quiet hallways echoed with the sounds of mice going about their daily routines. They felt protected here, hidden away from the dangers of predators and humans—or giants, as they were commonly known. As Strawberry drifted off to sleep, the breeze whispered through broken windows, and crickets chirped their peaceful melodies.
Strawberry was a tough, young, girl mouse. Her fur was white like her daddy, Rhubarb’s, except for a few splashes of red with black dots, which was why she was named Strawberry. She was skinny like her grandfather.
That day had been full of fun and surprises for Strawberry. Mice from all over the neighborhood had come to celebrate her birthday. They brought her lots of gifts and filled the air with squeals of laughter and excitement. The best gift had come from her dad, Rhubarb. It was a toy sword. Strawberry’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the shiny sword, imagining herself as a brave mouse, like Reepicheep, her favorite mouse from The Chronicles of Narnia. With her new gift, she was excited to embark on adventures and protect her mouse friends.
Her dad smiled and raised a stick in his paw. “On guard!” he said. Strawberry struck the stick with her new sword. Stick and sword clashed. Strawberry giggled. With a sneer in her eye, she raised the sword high and struck the stick with all her might. Rhubarb released his grip, and his stick fell. “You win! Don’t hurt me,” he said, smiling, and then embraced his daughter.
“Thank you, Dad. This is the best gift.”
Strawberry’s younger siblings, Blueberry and Raspberry, ran up to join the fun. “Can we play too?” Blueberry asked, his whiskers twitching with excitement.
“Me too! Me too!” squeaked little Raspberry, always eager to follow her older sister.
“Of course!” Strawberry laughed. “On guard!”
Blueberry and Raspberry each grabbed a stick and started swinging. Strawberry was careful with the sword around her younger siblings. She loved them dearly, even when they hit her paw with sticks.
After the sword fight, they all played “pin the tail on the rat.” Strawberry’s mom, Sherry, tied blindfolds over each player’s eyes, spun them around three times, and directed them toward the rat poster on the wall. Blueberry kept peeking under his blindfold, earning playful scolding from their mother. Raspberry got so dizzy from spinning that she pinned the tail on the wall three feet away from the poster, causing everyone to giggle.
Rhubarb smiled as they poked their pins in various parts of the rat’s body. Of course, the birthday girl won. She felt for the edge of the poster, found the corner, and moved her hand slightly upward and diagonally, where she pinned the tail closest to the rat’s rump.
After the party, Rhubarb grabbed another beer from his hidden stash before taking his daughter for a short walk along the trail near their home. Strawberry noticed he stumbled slightly but said nothing. The air was filled with a delicate, sweet fragrance from the Rocky Mountain columbine, which reminded Strawberry of the honey treat they had enjoyed earlier. They passed some blanket flowers, resembling sunflowers with their yellow petals and red centers. These native blooms released a subtle, earthy aroma that blended with the warm summer air.
As they walked, Rhubarb paused on the trail to look at Strawberry with a warm, tender smile—the kind she wished she saw more often. She noticed they were standing in a patch of flowers and her fur’s red splotches matched the flowers’ centers. Rhubarb smiled, proud of her beauty.
“You are no longer a pup,” he said, “but not quite an adult. You are in between, and it scares me.” His whiskers twitched nervously.
“Scared, Dad? You? Aren’t you the one who fought off a prairie lizard to save me last summer?” She grinned.
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle, “but this is different. You are my first ‘in-between.’” He paused; his expression darkened. “You need to be careful about who you associate with. Not everyone is like us mice. Rats, especially, are dangerous, disgusting creatures. Never trust them.”
Strawberry’s smile faded. There he goes again, she thought. Just when things were going so well, his ugly, mean side had come out. She ignored the thought and shook her head. No, today is a happy day. I’m not letting this bother me.
Rhubarb noticed her changed expression and smiled. “You are becoming very beautiful and mature, but you have lots to learn. I know you’ll have many challenges, but you’ll face them well. I hope you turn out to be like your mother, strong but sweet.”
Strawberry smiled at the compliment. Her dad did have a sweet side, sometimes.
As the sun began to set, Strawberry couldn’t help but feel grateful for such a joyful, wonderful day. She snuggled into her cozy little bed, her tiny nose twitching as she drifted to sleep. In her room, a firefly lantern cast flickering shadows on the wall. She dreamed of flying to Mars in her rocket ship, becoming the first mouse to land on the red planet. In her dream, Strawberry sailed through the vastness of outer space, her paws gripping the spaceship’s controls with excitement and determination. The crimson landscape of Mars beckoned her to explore its mysteries and wonders. She could see the magnificent mountains and deep canyons below as she approached the planet’s surface. Strawberry’s heart raced with anticipation as she prepared for her historic landing on the alien world.
Her dreams were abruptly interrupted by a bang. Strawberry woke up suddenly, with her heart racing. She felt anxious as she glanced around her small room. Her keen ears caught faint, unfamiliar noises downstairs. Fear gripped her as she carefully got out of bed and quietly tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Her whiskers quivered with alertness. Her mind raced. Intruders? In our home? Strawberry’s tiny paws moved quickly but quietly as she crept toward the source of the noise. She treaded carefully downstairs. Now, she could hear hushed whispers, rough and raspy—rats.
“I knew I smelled some. My nose never fails,” boasted one rat.
“Shh, let’s grab it and go. I think I heard something,” said another rat.
Her father’s stern warnings about rats echoed in her mind. Rhubarb had always taught her to be wary of them, to steer clear of their kind. Strawberry’s fur stood on end. Her heart was racing.
She paused for a moment. Cautiously, she looked around the corner to find three rats rummaging through their kitchen. Mischief gleamed in their tiny eyes, while their proud, long tails swished about confidently. Strawberry’s fur bristled with courage.
Silently, she crept forward, her mind searching for a plan. She spotted her plastic sword lying by the entrance. Strawberry darted toward it. She moved silently and swiftly. Her whiskers and tail twitched with nervous anticipation. With the toy sword gripped tightly in her paws, she took a stance, ready to confront the intruders. Her heart pounded with determination as she visualized herself defending her home with honor. Her eyes narrowed as adrenaline surged through her veins.
“Hey! Get out of here!” she squeaked, her voice small but fierce. Strawberry’s fur stood straight up. She showed her teeth and squealed.
The rats turned, surprised to see such a tiny mouse standing up to them. “It’s just a pup,” one rat whispered nervously. They held breadcrumbs in their paws, nothing more valuable than food scraps.
The rats looked around nervously. One of them lunged at her, but Strawberry was quick. She dodged, using her petite size to her advantage. She struck out with the sword, aiming for the rat’s paws, forcing him to retreat with a yelp.
“Hey, that hurt! We just want some food,” the injured rat screamed.
“Please,” the smallest rat said, his voice shaking. “We’re just hungry. Our young ones haven’t eaten in days. We don’t want trouble.”
Strawberry paused uncertainly. Food? she thought. They’re hungry. Just hungry. She lowered her weapon for a moment. Her fur softened. “They aren’t evil. They mean no harm,” she whispered to herself.
“We’ll leave,” the largest rat said quickly, backing toward the door. “We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have come in.”
The rats panicked and scattered, dropping their meager food as they fled. As quickly as they had come, the rats scurried out of the home, their retreating forms disappearing into the darkness of the inner factory, where many other mice made their homes. Strawberry stood there, panting; her sword still clutched tightly in her paws.
She watched with mixed emotions. She felt relieved that the intruders were gone, but sad, too. All they had wanted was food. But her dad’s warnings about rats being dangerous also echoed in her mind. She shook her head. She breathed. She had felt scared, but now she was relieved.
I did it, she thought. I saved our home. She couldn’t wait to share the good news with her family and see their smiles.
But before she could relish her victory, Strawberry heard heavy footsteps approaching. She turned, and Rhubarb burst into the room, his eyes wide with a mix of fury and fear. Strawberry felt her excitement drain away in an instant. She began to feel uneasy and scared. Rhubarb thumped his tail and waved his ears, clearly angry.
“Strawberry!” Rhubarb’s frantic voice made her jump. He rushed over, scanning her anxiously. “Are you alright? I heard a commotion.”
Strawberry was relieved. He was only concerned about her safety. She turned to face him; her small chest puffed up with pride. “Rats broke into our home, Dad. But I chased them away.”
Rhubarb’s face darkened, a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. “Rats in my home?” he growled. “How dare they!” He scowled. “Filthy vermin, always causing trouble.”
Strawberry frowned. “They were just looking for food, Dad. They didn’t seem so bad.”
Rhubarb looked at her, his expression softening slightly. “Strawberry, you showed remarkable fearlessness. But rats! They’re dangerous. We must be careful. Did they take anything? Thieves. They’re all thieves.”
Strawberry’s gaze dropped at her father’s words. She knew that wasn’t true. Not all rats were evil. Not all rats were thieves.
“But Dad—” she began softly.
Rhubarb’s face hardened again. “Strawberry! Rats cause nothing but trouble. Remember that!”
Rhubarb ran outside, followed closely by Strawberry. He loudly rang his warning bell to alert the neighborhood to the danger. The neighbors rushed out of their homes, looking curious and frightened. Rhubarb stood up straight and proud, ready to share the news.
“Rats! Thieves!” he yelled to his neighbors. “Check your valuables. Keep a lookout!”
“There they are!” Rhubarb’s nephew, Ralph, yelled, pointing.
“I see them!” another mouse shouted. “Thieves! Vermin!”
“Get them!” Rhubarb screamed.
Strawberry’s body tensed. “Dad, no! They meant no harm. They only wanted food—”
“Get them!” Rhubarb shouted again.
The rats panicked and ran for the factory door. One turned his head briefly, and his eyes met Strawberry’s. She saw the scared look on his face, and a tear of compassion fell from her eye.
“Enemies can become friends, but it takes a long time to trust.” This delightful fiction story gently shows readers young and old how to do just that.
Rhubarb the mouse lives with his family in a decrepit factory in Colorado. He harbors deep resentment towards rats after his brother was killed by one. When Barnabas the poetry-writing rat and his family move in, Rhubarb isn’t exactly turning cartwheels. But his wife Sherry, a formidable mouse in her own right, welcomes the new neighbors along with their mice children and a particularly precocious daughter named Strawberry (Hello, Reepicheep!).
Meanwhile, Miley the cat is hungry. So are her kittens. While searching for her son Milo, mama cat winds up in a scrape with a pack of street dogs. The pack leader is Bailey, a Rottweiler. How this unlikely menagerie establishes common ground with each other and a kindly veterinarian named Bart will wring tears from a turnip in this unforgettable story of adventure, courage, faith, kindness, and grace. Oh, and “the letter”? I cried.
Warm and winsome, the writing style is reminiscent of beloved children’s authors like Beatrix Potter and E.B. White. Although the story deals with some weighty themes, it avoids coming across as preachy or pedantic. The plot is packed with adventures both human and animal. Briskly paced, the story will keep readers turning pages until the very end.
Sparkling with wit and whimsy, Redeeming Rhubarb strikes just the right balance between action/adventure fantasy and heartwarming parable. Think Aesop’s Fables meets Stuart Little. From mice and rats to cats and dogs and a dedicated veterinarian with a heart of gold, the characters leap off the page and into your heart.
Tip: Alert readers will note the deliberate pairing of two classic flavors in this novel, Strawberry and Rhubarb. (Preferably with a light, flakey crust.) That is no accident. It’s also quite clever. And the cover art? Well. Who can resist that?
Inspired by the devastating floods that swept through Boulder, Colorado in 2013, Redeeming Rhubarb is a winsome mix of adventure, peril, and second chances. It includes themes of prejudice, courage, kindness, and forgiveness. It's structurally sound and gently faith-flavored, imparting valuable life lessons without sermonizing. Indeed, Redeeming Rhubarb is sure to be a hit with its target audience of children ages thirteen to eighteen. Note: Though written for young adults, the story and its Christian themes will have broad appeal to older audiences as well.
Finally, if I could score a book above five stars, this would be it. In fact, Redeeming Rhubarb is one of the finest young adult stories I’ve read in recent memory. You’ll love it! And that’s no “pie crust promise"!