A Purrsday Open Thread for November 13, 2025

 

A Kitty’s Kiss

 

Is a little sniff.

And lighter than this,

A swipe of his lips and teeth,

Across my hand.

The purring too,

Surely.

🌸

Marc, The Butter-Loving Cat

 

As told by Suzy

            Once, before our time, there was a certain little house made of stones and wood. It was like a fairytale cottage of the best type. The little house was situated at the entry to a wild and deep forest. The forest was seldom entered by man or man’s companion animals. It was too forbidding. Just like the forests in all the fairytales, the thorns must have been two whole inches long. If one insisted on entering this forest, all sound became muffled. The air was still, stifling.
            Besides Sofie, in this house lived a cat. He was one of those famous butter-colored toms. His name was Marc. He was a lover of butter, as a purely sane fellow. That’s where the old lady who also lived in the house comes into this story. Many cats are provided with a saucer of cream in the morning. It’s true! However, this old lady made and sold butter, since she possessed two adorable doe-eyed light brownish cows, Elsa and Helga.
            Marc received a pat of butter each morning, before going out to hunt. Not only did Marc keep Elsa and Helga’s barn clear of mice, but he also crept into the dark deep forest looking for better prey. Sometimes a rabbit, sometimes a serpent. If he caught a big rabbit he brought it home to Sophie to cook for both of them.
            As you can imagine, once Marc had eaten his butter and licked the little green glass saucer clean, he thanked Sofie and slipped out of the daytime cat door. At night it was closed, so Marc did have to be home before night.
            Anyhow, he went out to hunt. First the barn. No mice scurried before him. Clear.
            So Marc set out to enter the dark forest, by a certain little tunnel he had built through the bottom of the thorny vines. First he flushed out a robin. No dealing with that. Then he was insulted by a pair of noisy crows. He ignored them.
            “Get to the point of the story, Suzy,” I said.
            “OK, here goes,” she said.
            Leaving the crows behind, Marc paced deeper and deeper into the forest. Presently, as they used to say, he came to a huge old grampa of a tree. Perhaps it was a cedar. They are special anyhow. Down near its roots was a rather obscure looking opening, like some animal’s home burrow. Marc felt that he had never seen it before. He was intrigued.
            As he was considering whether he had indeed never seen this burrow before, someone popped out of it. Marc sat back on his haunches and wrapped his long yellow tail around himself.
            Oh, you know the type of creature it was. He was about the size of a big rabbit, but upright in carriage like a man. Like all the folk of his breed, he looked wise and cruel and crafty. His skin was the color of forest loam, as was his little knitted tunic. His feet were too big for his body and bare. His eyes were black as currants, but a lot more shiny. His grey hair was plaited into two braids which hung forward over his little shoulders. Likewise he had a long grey beard, braided in one long plait. He smiled at Marc.

 

Hello, well met, Marc.
Yes I know your name!
Come with me!
Down in earth below,
I have the finest butter a cat could wish for!
All for you!

 

            Marc laughed, thinking of Sofie and Elsa and Helga and the green glass saucer.

 

Oh, Levon. Yes I know your name!

I see that you think me simple.
Not so!
May God confound you!
I’ll not go below.

 

            The little fellow screamed a scream of dinner thwarted and frustration, turned on his gnarly little heel and vanished into his burrow, which vanished likewise behind him.

            “I didn’t think I had seen this hole before,” said wise Marc, the butter-loving cat.

            On the way home after all of that he caught a mole and had it for his supper. He arrived home long before dark, entering the cat door in Sophie’s door and took a lovely nap in front of her little blue enameled stove. Later, Sophie shared her chicken stew with him, then she put the plank over the cat door, so no creatures could creep in during the night.

The End

 

            “That’s a pretty good story, Suzy. I didn’t know you had it in you,” I said.

            “Thanks,” said Suzy with a smile and in a little creaky voice.

            “By the way, how did Marc know the faery’s name,” I wondered.

            “The crows told him he better look out for Levon,” she said. “They were rudely teasing him.”

            “And how did Levon know Marc’s name,” I said.

            “Snooping at windows, hanging around Sophie’s barn,” said Suzy.

            “Well, that ties it all up into a neat bow!” I said.

 

That’s The Real End

😸

Riches and No Fame

 

            The night after the harrowing of Gary and Jim, Ralph and Hector slept rough again, old style, around the fire, which tended to always be burning. In Forest Men’s historical terms, a fire was actually a luxury. They didn’t need it, but they sure liked it.
            Blue, the wolf cub, liked to sleep outside, so she left Cherry with Ramona and slept by the fire too. Wolves crave cold.
            “Hi, Blue,” Ralph said when he woke. He noogied her between the ears and sat up thoughtfully. He was thinking about those two rifles up on the high shelf in the cave with Ramona and Cherry, not to mention the cats. He wanted to be rid of them as quickly as possible. A frown creased his normally unfurrowed brow for only a moment.
            It was a little early for Ramona to be up and about. Fall days were really getting short too.
            “Hector,” said Ralph. “How about we go see Ranger Rick. I want to take him those rifles. Those guys can’t go to the law, or come around looking for them because they were breaking their own laws. By the time I explain the situation, Rick will know to be on the lookout for poachers anyhow.”
            Hector’s eyes opened. He looked a little startled to see where he was, but he remembered and smiled.
            “Those two, Ralph! Like a couple of bad badgers with guns and beer!” grinned Hector, sitting up cross legged like Ralph. “I guess I’ll find out who Ranger Rick is.”
            Ralph got up, all 9 expansive feet of him, and stretched. He put enough fuel on the fire to keep it going for a while. Then he went into the cave to see Ramona and get the rifles.
            “Mona, Hector and I are going to go see Rick. I want to leave these things with him. If he doesn’t want them he can sell them or something. I think we’ll take Blue along, since Cherry is still sleeping.”
            “OK, Baby,” said Ramona from her snuggly nest in the big quilt.
            “Twigg, keep an eye on things for a while, OK?” he said to his son who also woke.
            “I will,” said Twigg agreeably.
            Outside again, after quietly closing the clever green door, Ralph grabbed the bag of beer cans that Gary and Jim had dumped in the forest. He had the rifles in his right hand and the bag in his left.
            “You want to come along, Blue?” he asked the wolf girl, and she agreed that she would like to come along.
            “With luck, Hector, Rick will be making coffee or having his trainee do it, and he might even have something interesting to eat!” said Ralph.
            Secretly, Ralph was hopeful that showing up with Hector wouldn’t make Dexter faint again.
            The path over to the Ranger Station is maybe a couple of blocks in length, not far, but far enough. When they got to the dumpster at the edge of the parking lot, Ralph got rid of the bag of cans. He was pleased to see that Rick’s National Forest truck was parked nearby. He touched the hood. It was warm, so he hadn’t been there a long time.
            Ralph knocked on the office door, opened it, and stuck his head in, while ducking enough to get through.
            “Rick! Are you in here? I need to talk to you!” said Ralph.
            “Good timing, Ralph,” said Rick from the kitchen nook, “I’m just making coffee.”
            “Make a lot, I brought company!” said Ralph.
            Ralph and Hector came in all the way and Rick peeked out of the nook. His eyebrows went up, when he saw Hector and Blue, and he went back into the kitchen.
            Ralph took his big chair and Hector sat on the regular chair, hoping that it would survive his weight. Ralph laid the two rifles on Rick’s desk and they waited for a few minutes. Blue sat by Ralph’s feet very politely.
            “Dexter isn’t here yet,” Rick called from the kitchen area. “I hope he doesn’t miss this!”
            Rick came out with a tray with three cups of steaming coffee a couple of minutes later. He also had a big bakery box of doughnuts, mixed variety flavors. He put the tray down on the desk and took a silent second or two to look at the rifles.
            “OK, Ralph. What’s the story?” said Rick, while passing out cups of coffee and removing the lid from the box of doughnuts. Fortunately, Rick had purchased two dozen doughnuts!
            “Well, in a nutshell, Rick, we discovered two poachers drinking beer and shooting out across the river yesterday. Also, in the same nutshell, Hector here, my cousin by the way, say hi to Rick Hector. Hector here was riding his moose, Hugo, harmlessly through the forest and one of these critters wounded Hugo, who is up in the meadow recovering.
            “Hector and I felt that it was our duty to discourage those two. They have names, but only first names, Gary and Jim, if that helps. We discouraged them so well that they dropped their weapons in their eagerness to escape! They also left beer cans, which are in your dumpster," said Ralph.
            “I’ll just bet you discouraged them,” said Rick, smiling at the picture in his mind.
            “Yeah, I did the old horrible smell thing. Hector showered them with orbs, and then I did the old boulders coming to get you thing. We weren’t visible of course. I bet they think the forest is haunted,” giggled Ralph.
            “So. These are poacher’s rifles, eh?” said Ranger Rick, more seriously.
            “Yeah, we don’t want them,” said Ralph. “I thought maybe you would, or you could sell them or something.” All three of them enjoyed that idea for a moment.
            At that very instant, trainee Dexter popped in the door. He didn’t scream or faint, but he looked pretty surprised.
            “Hey, Dexter, we have company. You’ll have to go get another chair out of the back room,” said Rick, by way of steadying his trainee. “You know Ralph, of course. Hector here is his cousin, and the wolf is a wolf, I guess. Does she have a name, Ralph?”
            “Her name is Blue,” said Ralph. “I should have said.”
            “Good morning, Ralph and Hector and Blue,” said Dexter. “I’ve never gotten to meet a wolf close up! May I pet her?"

            "Of course, she's friendly," said Ralph.
            Then they had to tell Dexter the story of the two poachers and how there came to be two rifles on Rick’s desk.             Dexter also thought the two had gotten what they deserved, but it was too bad they couldn’t really turn them in since they had escaped safely.
            Dexter was actually a very nice young man, just a tad flighty, but he would be OK. He handled the sudden meeting with Hector and Blue in addition to Ralph pretty well.
            Between the four of them, and Blue, they ate all 24 doughnuts and drank two pots of coffee.
            “You know, Ralph, the National Forest owes you a reward. But, I can’t admit you are here to reward,” said Rick. “I would like to personally thank you, and even reward you with something, if there was something that would make sense to you around here.”
            “The doughnuts were pretty good, Rick. I can’t think of anything that I need. I pretty much have everything a guy could want out there in the Home Clearing,” said Ralph. “It was just fun for us.”
            “Would Ramona like anything I have around here?” said Rick hopefully.
            “Well, she really likes lighters. It makes making all those fires a lot easier,” admitted Ralph.
            “Done!” said Rick. “I have a package of new ones. I make fires, and smoke some too.”
            Rick went back into his storage area and came back with the package of new lighters, but also a nice shovel, and a small bow saw.
            “While I was back there I saw this shovel and saw and wondered if you could use them,” said Rick.
            “Maybe so, Rick! Maybe so!” said Ralph. “But don’t you need them?”
            “Oh, I can get more. No problem,” said Rick. “I don’t guess I’ll put those rifles in the lost and found. I’ll check around and see if anybody I know wants one of them, I’ll keep the better one.
            “I hope Hugo recovers from his wound soon, too,” said Rick to Hector. “I didn’t know anyone rode moose!”
            “Mostly they don’t,” said Hector, “But Hugo and I have been friends since he was little, so it works out OK.”
            “Thanks for the doughnuts and coffee,” said Ralph. “We better go see what Ramona is making for breakfast now!” He was patting his tummy thoughtfully.
            “You guys are welcome, come on over any time,” said Rick.
            So, Ralph, carrying the shovel and the saw, and Hector and Blue slipped out of the office door and vanished down the path to the Home Clearing. Ralph was already thinking about experimenting with his new tools, and he was a bit hungry.

🍩

It Was That Regulation Dark and Stormy Night

 

            Ruell was a dreamer of dreams, riding a black Harley-Davidson Sprint. He was often a sleepy man, and he was very sleepy as he rode home after a second shift.
            The sky was low, cloudy, reflecting some of the light of the city. It had started to rain again. The wind was blowing from the north, gusting to maybe 25 mph, not a super impediment, but noticeable. He rode into the wind, hoping that it would keep him awake.
            The temperature was barely 40 degrees. It was late November. A cold wet fall that year.
            Ruell tried to keep his mind on the freeway. He tried not to let thoughts of home, warmth, food and bed distract him from vigilance. The point was to reach that destination in one piece, not die dreaming of it.
            Driving the freeway was still a mild pleasure in those days. The traffic was light, and a person could travel across counties from city to small towns in very short periods of time. It was still a novelty. He was riding the motorcycle because it was fun, though he said it was to save on gas.
            The wind, or discipline, did keep him awake. He made the freeway exit nearest home in good order. The rain was coming down harder now. It bounced off of his bike, his jacket, his legs and his gloved hands like there was a core of ice in each drop. It was colder too.
            He had maybe ten more miles before home. Very few street lights illuminated the rest of the journey. Just one at an intersection or two. His headlight poked a yellow finger into the dark wetness of the country road. He was putting along at maybe 30 on the straightaways and less on the curves. There was one 45degree corner with a high chain link fence on one side of the angle, the one he was facing as he came toward it, still a couple of blocks away.
            So far, so good.
            But then, the planet shifted or something. Maybe something opened and slammed shut again.  Maybe he was dreaming, they always say that, don’t they, the audience, when the story is told. The friend of one’s bosom will likely say it.
            He was preparing to make the righthand corner when something intangible, iridescent, but impossibly dark and heart-stoppingly huge moved suddenly in his peripheral vision. It stole all of his attention. His right hand twisted the throttle reflexively and Ruell, father of four and serious citizen of the land, rode his Harley-Davidson right into that chain link fence at, let’s say 40mph.
            His helmet saved his head. It didn’t help his wrist. The bike made a dent in the fence, the bike fell to the side, and the rider fell into the ditch.  He lay still.
            He felt his heart beating. He noticed that he was breathing. He considered his legs. They seemed to be intact, no pain there. Nothing anywhere else until he got to his left wrist. That was beginning to hurt, the way things hurt when a bone is displaced, or cracked. He was still stunned so he lay there trying to remember what had startled him. His mind veered away from a memory.     

            “Oh,” he thought, “I finally did it. I went to sleep on this bike!”
            Of course, there were no cell phones back then, and in his situation there was no phone booth, and no one knew where he was, and they had no way of knowing what had happened to him. He was on his own, with one useful hand. He sat up to consider his situation. The wrist was really talking to  him now.
            As he sat there, he sensed an incursion of regret entering his thought processes. “No kidding,” he thought.
            “I regret that I disturbed you,” it came in stronger this time. “It was not my intention.”
            The nearly visible immensity came near.  It seemed like a bulky mass enclosing a small galaxy of stars.
            “Are you a ghost?” said Ruell faintly. He knew darn well there were no ghosts, so this was an awkward question for him to ask.
            “No. But we don’t have time to go into all of that now. You need to go home before you go into shock. If you just keep going you’ll get there, and yes, I know where home is. Your mind shows it to me like a movie!” said the sparkly entity inaudibly.
            Star, for lack of a name, picked up the bike and moved a couple of bent things on it into workable positions. He set it on the road, using the kickstand like he did this all the time.
            “May I touch your wrist?” said the mysterious being.
            Ruell held out his injured hand and received a slight touch on his wrist.
            He knew a cue when he saw one. So he mounted his Harley and started it up. The wrist still hurt but it worked.
            When he turned to say something in thanks, he was alone again.
            Slowly, very carefully, he rode the rest of the way home, through the dark and rainy night.
            When he got home, his wife said he must go to the local hospital, but before they set out for the emergency department, his eldest daughter stabilized the wrist and hand with a foot long piece of a wooden ruler, wrapping the whole package in an elastic bandage.
            In the morning his wrist was surgically repaired. He took a couple of weeks off of work, since his work involved both hands, and he drove an automatic Chevy to work for a while. The Harley was repaired and continued in service for some time.
            He never stopped wondering if he had met a real Sasquatch on that dark and stormy road. He was pretty sure he had. And he never told anyone either, for he was a cagey sort of man.

🕚

Greetings From Mesa, AZ

             I, Miss Charley Cat would like you to know that it is too hot in Mesa to hang around inside an RV, even with the generator running the so-called AC.

            Nevertheless, things are going well. The staff are getting along and doing well in business, whatever that is. It's what they all talk about anyhow..

            So, since it was so hot today, Madam and I have repaired to the shade of a large tree. I was able to explore the tree extensively. It's a pretty good tree, all told.

            That's about all. Happy Suzday to all. I haven't forgotten all the cats from home. Love to Mr. Baby, Toots, Suzy, Sammie, Buddy, and Serena, though she doesn't speak with us.

            If anything noteworthy happens, I will surely report!

Your Reporter in Absentia,

Charley 

🤍

Six Days Had Passed

 
 
            The sun rose and set upon the Great Forest, and its cloud cover, six times. There were drizzly days and a couple of sunny ones.
            On the seventh morning while sitting by the fire, watching Ramona moving around getting breakfast on the road, Ralph heard the unmistakable sound of high-powered rifle fire. He frowned. Ramona whipped around and looked at him open mouthed. Neither said a word.
            Ralph and Ramona were still staring at each other in astonishment or perhaps dismay when they began to hear the sound of a large four footed animal approaching.
            “What?” said Ralph.
            “Is it Hugo?” said Ramona.
            They both watched the main trail that leads past Ralph’s favorite log and out into the meadow up to the north. It wasn’t long before Hector riding a limping Hugo appeared.
            “Hector, what in the world has happened?” called Ralph when he saw his cousin.
            “I’m afraid Hugo has injured a hoof. Climbing a steep path his left side rear hoof found a very sharp rock. We hadn’t gotten very far away, only a day’s travel. We camped and rested and then walked back this direction. Hugo needs to rest and heal.
            “But that’s not the end of it! Hugo was shot by a man with a gun. It must have been from a very great distance. He carries the bullet in the same leg, and it hurts him when he walks,” said Hector.
            Hugo did indeed look unhappy and tired and maybe a little skinny. Hector didn’t look very happy either.
            “You must stay with us while Hugo heals,” said Ralph. “Come and sit by the fire and let’s plan what to do next. Hugo must go to the meadow and eat and grow strong again. But he might be in danger from the same hunters. Something needs to be done.”
            “I think I know who can find the bullet in Hugo’s leg and pull it out,” said Ramona. “Would you call Maeve, Ralph. That beak is a very sharp long tool. I think she can make quick work of it.”
            Ralph did call Maeve, and like always she seemed to hear him wherever she was. She drifted down out of the sky.
            “What’s up, Boss?” inquired she.
            “Hugo is back, but carries a bullet in a wound in his leg. Do you think that you might be able to grip it with your long sharp beak and pull it out?” asked Ralph.
            “I can try,” said Maeve, glancing over at Hugo. “Please let him know that I’m trying to help him!”
            So Hector put his arms around Hugo’s neck and while he was explaining to him what the big black bird was trying to do, Maeve hopped over and inspected the wound. It was in the lower part of his leg where there wasn’t a great depth of flesh.
            “I think I can,” she said. Then, using her beak like a surgical tool, she entered the wound, found the bullet and with some effort pulled it out.
            “Ah, thank you, Birdy,” said Ralph. “Ramona thought you were the one who could get it out.”
            Hector thanked her and Hugo looked relieved.
            Ramona got Maeve a cup of water from her bucket, so Maeve could rinse her beak.
            “Now. We can’t have people coming into the Great Forest and shooting rifles,” said Ralph. “Something must be done. It just can’t be allowed to stand. Are you with me Hector?”
            “Of course,” said Hector, glancing at Hugo. “They might kill him next time!”
            “OK, then. We must find these hunters and make them regret coming out here. We must fix them, so they don’t ever want to see this place again!” said Ralph.
            “We’ll hunt the hunters,” said Hector in agreement.
            “It sounded, to me, like they must be over in the direction of the river,” said Ramona.
            “Let’s go talk to Bob. He can watch over Hugo while we find and deal with the hunters,” said Ralph.
            It only took a few minutes to find Uncle Bob at the Stump House sitting outside with Aunt Suzie. Ralph explained to him what had happened and what they were going to do and asked him to just watch over Hugo. Suzie and Bob both agreed to kind of keep an eye on Hugo while he ate and rested and got some meat on his ribs.
            Ralph reckoned that Ramona’s sense of direction was about right, or at least a good place to start, so he and Hector began their search for the hunters at the river. It was the right direction, but it seemed as if the sound had come from further out. They were going to have to cross the river.
            Forest people are strong swimmers. This little river was no challenge realistically. Ralph and Hector did their invisible thing just in case the hunters were near. They didn’t want to be seen. Though being seen does have its own utility. But for this mission they felt not being visible was better. Who knows? These goobers might take a shot at a Ralph or a Hector, if fully visible.
            They plunged into the forest, going further than Ralph usually went. They walked straight out from the river for a while, until they heard something. It was voices. Men’s voices.
            “I think I hit that moose,” said one. “I don’t know what the hell was riding it, Gary.”
            “A hallucination is probably what was riding it,” said Gary. “You believe too many things you see on YouTube Jimbo! Get real!”
            Gary and Jim were sitting on a log, taking a break, it looked like. There were four Rainier cans lying around their feet and they were working on the last two cans when Ralph and Hector found them. Ralph was almost sorry for them, but not too much. After all one of them had wounded Hugo and they were shooting in the Great Forest. Ralph didn’t approve.
            Ralph’s first gambit was the dead skunk in the middle of the road scent. He laid it on heavy. It didn’t bother him or Hector. It did bother Gary.
            “What the hell, Jim,” he said. “We better move. The wind must have shifted, and something died a long time ago upwind! Eww! I think I’m gonna puke!”
            “Not my fault, let’s just move,” said Jim. They left all six cans on the forest floor.
            They tried to escape the stench, but since Ralph and Hector were gliding silently along with them it didn’t work. No matter how far they walked the stink came right along with them.
            Hector whispered to Ralph, “I think I’ll do some orb stuff for them!” Ralph grinned. Invisibly of course.
            Little orbs of multi-colored balls of light appeared like a swarm of bubbles. They flew up in the men’s faces. They swatted them away, still hanging on to their rifles.                  When Gary set a foot down myriad little light bubbles burst up from his feet. He was breathing heavily, and his face was sweaty. His eyes were getting kind of mad-looking.
            “I told you every damn thing isn’t in the newspaper, Gary! Explain this,” screamed Jim, trying to see Gary through the swarms of tiny lights. “You get real, Gary! What is this?”
            They kept moving but they couldn’t escape the exuberance of the swarms. Ralph added some tinkly sound effects.
            “We’re getting farther away from the truck, Gary, we better turn around and go the other way,” said Jim. “We need to get out of here; there’s no game anyhow!” he screamed.
            Both men, weighed down with camping equipment in big packs, and their rifles started jogging heavily in between the brush, which might have been sort of a rough trail.
            Ralph and Hector had no trouble keeping up with them. It was easy. In fact it was hilarious, but they were silent for the most part. Gary and Jim were much too flummoxed to notice a little whispering between them.
            Hector was enjoying the bubble lights so much he just kept it up. One of those guys had injured his buddy and he was ticked.
            About the time the men were running out of breath and had slowed down, still looking wildly around, Ralph decided that it was time for his boulders rolling down the mountain sound effect. If a person didn’t know it was just sound, not boulders, it was terrifying. It started like a distant rumble, but got louder and louder until they noticed it.
            “Dear God, what’s that!” screamed Gary, who started running again. He didn’t notice that he had dropped his rifle. Jim picked it up, but then when the noise got to him, as he was running too, he put both hands over his ears and dropped both rifles. Ralph made a note to see if Ranger Rick wanted them. He thought, “I could just bury them, but maybe Rick would have some use for them.” He would pick them, and the beer cans up on the way back through the forest.                   Ralph doesn’t like litter in the Great Forest.
            He knew they were getting near the parking lot where hunters often parked and that they would lose them there when they got in their truck. He was sure it would be a truck. He kept up the rolling boulders show, and Hector kept blowing bubbles of light.
            Gary and Jim were stumbling now, but they kept going, just trying to make it to the truck. For some reason, they felt that this would all end there, and maybe it mostly would.
            It sounded like the mountain was coming down on them. The little orbs flew faithfully with them.
            “Where are the rifles?” howled Gary as he hit the driver’s side of the pickup and wrenched his door open.
            “Damned if I know!” screamed Jim as he jerked the passenger side door open and threw his pack in first. "I'm not going back there for nothing!" Gary fumbled his pack off and ran around to the back of the pickup and threw his in there.
            Before they managed to escape, Ralph said in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once, huge, bellowing, horrifying, “NEVER RETURN!” It sounded worse than the boulders. It echoed in their minds like the crack of doom.
            Gary started driving before they got the doors shut. He floored it getting out of the parking lot and out onto the dirt road that joins the highway that finally ends in Milltown.
            Hector made sure some bubbly orbs made it into the cab with them. It could be that Gary and Jim would never be entirely free of them. Maybe not. It could cause problems for them at home. And home was a good place for those two.
            “You know, Hector,” said Ralph, “I don’t believe those two want to hunt out here anymore!”
            “I think they’re completely over it,” agreed Hector.
            “I wonder what Ramona is cooking, I’m getting kind of hungry, now that I think about it,” said Ralph. “I bet you are too!”
            “I am! I also wonder what the wonderful Lady Ramona is cooking!” said Hector.
            Then they walked back the same way they had chased the hunters out, scooping up the fancy expensive rifles and the beer cans. The guys had left the plastic bag that the beer came in, so it was easy to carry the cans out of the woods.                     Looking back, Ralph was pleased to see that there was no sign the Gary and Jim had ever been there, not even cigarette butts. Apparently neither of them were smokers.
            Ramona had roasted three wild turkeys caught by Twigg and the puma brothers earlier in the day while Ralph and Hector were chasing the poachers out of the forest. They could have used a fourth, but it was enough and very tasty!

🦃

A Meeting In The Meadow

 

No moon at all.

In this misty forest.

All of that gold,

Hidden above.*

 
            It was barely light outside when Uncle Bob woke. Aunt Suzie was still absolutely asleep. He was a little sad because the moon had hidden its face all night. He was thinking of songs as usual.
            He left the Stump House as quietly as a mouse, as they say, and stepped outside and stretched. It was cool and all around was gray and deep green and brown. The fire had almost gone out. As usual there wasn’t a lot of firewood left over from the day before. He needed to get out there and bring in some more. Hunting food and firewood was his constant responsibility.
            Bob built up the fire for morning, stuck his head back in the Stump, and woke Suzie enough to tell her that he was going for fuel. She yawned and made some sort of soft sound of ascent.
            The whole meadow had been logged off many years before, leaving brush, saplings, ancient stumps and patches of grass. He headed for the tree line looking for fallen branches. He also usually pulled up some saplings. Green wood for a slower fire. In fact, Ralph did the same thing, so it’s no wonder that the cleared area never grew another forest.
            So, Uncle Bob was trundling along dragging a big dry branch from a fir tree and three alder saplings when he saw something he didn’t understand. Sticking up out of the undergrowth were some odd looking branched things. Those had never been in the meadow before! He came closer, trying to be quiet while still carrying the firewood.
            What he saw was a great beast bedded down and asleep. It was kind of like a regular deer but so much bigger.

Is it magic?

What is his name?

Will he fear me,

Or me him?*

 
            “I gotta tell Ralph,” Uncle Bob whispered into the morning mist. He dropped his firewood and ran, thumpity wump down the path, out of the meadow heading for the Home Clearing.
            When he got there, all out of breath, he was once more amazed, for sleeping old style around the fire circle were Ralph another one like unto himself and Blue the nearly grown wolf pup.
            Blue woke when she sensed him puffing and breathing there, and yipped a little.
            Ralph woke then, but Hector snored on.
            “Ralphie,” said Uncle Bob, “Who is this?”
            “Oh, hi, Bob,” said sleepy Ralph, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “It’s just my cousin, Hector. He came up to visit us. We decided to sleep by the fire last night. What brings you here this early morning Bob?”
            “I was out fetching firewood, and I found a great beast sleeping in the meadow. It’s like a deer but huge!” said Bob. “Do you know what it is?”
            By then, they had awakened Hector, who smiled at Uncle Bob.
            “That is Hugo! He is my great friend. I ride him as a man rides a horse!” said he. “He is not to be feared. He is quite friendly.”
            Uncle Bob sat down near the fire to catch his breath. It had been a pretty exciting morning so far.
             “Hector, good morning! This is Bob, my childhood friend who lives out where Hugo is sleeping,” said Ralph.
            “Would you like to ride Hugo?” grinned Hector. He was looking at Uncle Bob.
            “I don’t know! Would he let me?” said Uncle Bob.
            “Sure! He’s very agreeable. I’ll call him and saddle him up, and you can try it!” said Hector.
            Hector stood up and whistled very loudly and within a few moments, Hugo was among them.
            Bob kind of got behind Ralph while Hector put his big padded saddle on Hugo’s back and tightened it down.
            “Where did you get his saddle?” said Uncle Bob.
            “I made it! It’s made of sheep skins all stitched together with some homemade sinew ropes to tie it down on his back,” said Hector proudly. “I saw some saddles on horses one time. Where I come from there are cowboys riding horses. And they all had saddles.”
            Uncle Bob got up on one of the logs around the fire, so he could mount Hugo. It took a minute, but he got into the saddle and looked around at everything. “Wow, far out..” he said, reverting to type a bit.
            Hector handed Bob the reins and turned him loose.
            While Uncle Bob and Hugo were strolling around the Home Clearing under the watchful eye of Hector, Ralph said, “So, Cousin Hector, you must have rode all the way up  here for a very good reason. I’m curious. What’s it all about?”
            “Well, Cousin Ralph, you know what happened to my parents. It’s logging country down at home. You know that loggers don’t like us, and we don’t like them. Both way down south where I was born and up where I found Hugo while living with Aunt Rose and Uncle Sam. It’s the same story,” said Hector. “Hugo would like to live somewhere with cold winters too.”
            “How do I make him go where I want to?” said Uncle Bob from across the clearing where Hugo had found a few blades of grass. “I’d like to get down now!”
            “I just talk to him, but you don’t have to,” Hector said, and whistled Hugo over to the fire. Bob climbed down as he had gotten up.

            "I better go," said Uncle Bob. "Suzie will be wondering why it's taking so long to get some firewood. Thanks for letting me ride Hugo, Hector!"

            "Sure! Anytime," said Hector.
            They had been making some noise, so they woke Ramona, Twigg, Cherry and the puma brothers.
            Ramona went to work making a pot of oatmeal porridge and a pot coffee too.
            “Would you like to ride Hugo, Firekeeper?” said Hector.
            “Oh, no, thank you, Cousin Hector, I’ll just keep making some food,” said Ramona.
            “I’d like to ride Hugo,” said Twigg.
            “I’ll show you one of Hugo’s best tricks. Makes life easier,” said Hector. He spoke to Hugo in a low rumbly voice and Hugo knelt down low.
            Twigg got on and took the reins. As it happened he was a natural rider and had no trouble telling Hugo where to go. They even ambled out to the river and back.
            Cherry was still being shy, so she just stayed near Ramona.
            While Twigg was riding Hugo around, Ralph said, “What is your plan, Hector?”
            “I believe that Hugo and I will continue up to the north until we reach a remote forest. It will be cold in the winter for Hugo, and perhaps I will meet my Firekeeper among our people there,” said Hector. “I would like to have my own place at last, far from hired hunters.”
            “That sounds like a wonderful plan,” said Ralph. “I wish you much happiness in your search!”
            “Time to eat,” called Ramona.
            While she was serving the oatmeal with butter, and cups of coffee, Ralph continued, “Why don’t you rest with us another day or two? Then we can let you go.”
            “Thank you, Ralph. I couldn’t ask for anything better!” said Hector.
            As Ramona served him the steaming bowl of oatmeal, he said, “Lady Ramona, I will remember your good food. Perhaps I will find one who would like to make hot food also. My thanks!”
            When two days were past, Hector whistled Hugo to himself, saddled up, and rode out of the Home Clearing heading northward, always keeping to the higher parts of the mountains.
            The farewells were tender and heartfelt.

💚

*Uncle Bob had been working on a few verses.