It's A Howler's Bag, Man!

 

 
            Another day rolled around, and another sleepover around the fire. Morning came and once more Ramona strolled out to start the day and wake the sleepers. It would be a soup morning. She had some onions and some leftover young buck roast, enough to make a pot of soup.
            Bob and Berry had returned from their quarantine in the meadow. You remember that Daisy Dust is toxic to cats. Thankfully, they seemed to have escaped infestation.
            Maurice sat up and said, “May I go in and get my book and my harmonica, Firekeeper?”
            “Of course,” said Ramona absently, while deciding how much fuel to put on the fire.
            Maurice came back out with his stuff. He wrote a few lines in his book. Then he laid it down and started playing some old Cream tunes. Train Time, definitely.
            Ralph woke, blinking and yawning. Cherry joined the party. Blue stretched and yawned then went back to sleep at Cherry’s feet.
            The music continued. Maurice was working out a little tune of his own, but he didn’t want to tell anybody that’s what he was doing. He just kept working on it. It got a little repetitive.
            Ramona put her soup ingredients into her large pot. Chopped venison, chopped onions, salt, garlic, and some greens she had laying around, and water of course. It would be plain, but good.
            When the soup was just about ready to serve, Maurice said, “May I put my stuff back up on the shelf?” to Ramona.
            “Of course,” said Ramona. A tiny gnat of annoyance ruffled her serenity. She shooed it away.
            After soup Maurice asked for permission to get his harmonica again.
            As she was dropping the bowls into her bucket of water for a quick rinse, Ramona thought she could see how this was going. It also felt like a rather busy morning. She gave it some thought, but didn’t say anything for a while.
            Then Maurice wanted to put his harmonica away again, because he and Ralph were going out to gather fuel. Ralph wore the big leather pack that Ooog had made for him. Ramona noted the backpack and its excellent practicality once more.
            A plan came to mind.
            Ramona whistled and waited. Soon Maeve appeared. She hadn’t been very far away, just far enough to be riding Ralph’s shoulder as he gathered wood.
            “I’m here, do you need me?” she asked Ramona.
            “Yes, Maeve. I believe I do! I wondered if you would go talk to Thaga. Ask her if I may come see her today. I have a question and will bring Maurice with me. Would you mind?” said Ramona.
            “Of course I will. What’s up? Is it a secret?” said Maeve.
            “There are no secrets from you, Madam Raven,” laughed Ramona. “I would like to ask Thaga to make Maurice a bag for his stuff, since he doesn’t wear pockets or pants anymore. He really needs a way to carry his book and harmonica around! He really does! Let me tell you!”
            “You got it,” said Maeve, who blasted off in a great theatrical flapping of black wings.
            Before Ralph and Maurice returned, Maeve was back with a message.
            “Thaga says to come on up. She will be expecting you,” said Maeve. She had a cup of the morning soup, since she hadn’t been there for breakfast.
            “Very good. That’s just what I thought she would say,” said Ramona.
            When the wood gatherers returned, Ramona said, “I have a plan.”
            “This is what I propose to do, Baby, and Maurice. Cherry and Maeve and Blue, and I, along with Maurice, will go up to see Thaga. She’s expecting us already.
            “Maurice, would you go get your things again and bring them along? I want her to see what you have and to design and make a bag for you!” announced Ramona.
            “Yes, Firekeeper,” yelped Maurice, running for the cave.
            Ralph winked, and kept stacking firewood.
            Ramona didn’t really need to bring everybody, but it seemed like fun, so she did. As it turned out, Ralph wanted to tag along, so he did. Bob and Berry had gone off hunting or fishing or something. They did their own thing a lot.
            So, it was a large party which arrived on the porch of the Neanderthal’s stone cabin. Ramona tapped lightly on the door and in a moment Thaga appeared, with Harold at her feet.
            “Come in, come in, everyone,” she said standing aside so that they could pass.
            “You know why we are here, dear Thaga. Our friend Maurice has a few things that he needs to keep with himself. He needs a bag.
            “We have come to you, for help,” said Ramona.
            “Of course, I will help. Let me see what this bag needs to hold,” said Thaga, getting right into the spirit of the venture.
            Maurice showed Thaga his few things. She nodded, and said, “I see!”
            “Thank you, Ma’am,” Maurice whispered, almost too excited to speak.
            “It will take me a while to make a nice bag with a soft lining, to protect your harmonica. I think that Maurice should stay with us here for a while. I’ll make a nice bag, and he can help Ooog in the garden. How about that? Good idea?” said Thaga.
            “We have plenty of room, and Thaga is a good cook,” urged Ooog, who had come in to see what was going on.
            “Yes, please,” said Maurice.
            “Wonderful,” said Thaga. “Sit yourselves down around the table! I have a big batch of cinnamon rolls just coming out of the over and I will make some coffee!”
            No one in their right minds would turn down such an offer, so they all did sit down at the big table and have a wonderful after breakfast snack.
            Maurice played some of his songs, just because it was such a festive day. Then, Ralph, with Maeve riding along, Ramona, Cherry and Blue, all said their goodbyes to Thaga, and Ooog, and Harold, and to Maurice, and they all trooped back down to the Home Clearing.
            Ramona was quite pleased with how her plan had gone.
            She and Cherry took the dishes from breakfast over to the river to scrub them and brought them back to dry, ready for the next meal.
            While they were gone, Ralph and Maeve had a nice chat about this and that when they heard a plaintive voice approaching.
            “Ralphie!” the voice cried. It was Uncle Bob, of course.
            “Bob!” said Ralph. “Is everything alright?”
            “I’m stuck. I mean, I’m having trouble with this song I’m working on. I thought maybe you could help me!” said Uncle Bob, looking all pent up and worried.
            “I’ll try to help. Maybe Maeve can help too!” Ralph giggled.
            “He could do worse!” said Maeve.
            “But, Bob, you know who you should really get to help? Maurice! He’s a master song maker. He’s not here right now, but he’ll be back in a couple of days! Can you wait that long?” said Ralph. “Maurice can build you a tune, and you can do the words!”
            “Aw, Ralphie! That’s a great idea, Man! I’ll keep fiddling with the words at home, and see Maurice when he gets back,” said Uncle Bob, happily.
            “Perfect!” said Ralph.

🍀

Good Morning! Light as Air, Open Thread

 Just a little old bubble.

I hope you have a lovely June 8th!

💮

Ramona, Thaga, And The Daisy Dust

 

            Ramona and Cherry had spent the night snugged in the quilts inside the cave, just like they usually did. But, Ralph, Maurice, and the wolf and the cats had slept outside by the fire. It wasn’t even a cool night, being summer and all.
            When Ramona woke early, as she always did, to stir up the fire and make a little something to eat, the sleepover crew were still snoring. Bob and Berry were on one side of the fire with Blue. Ralph was starting to wake and look around. Maurice was still out cold, with his long tongue hanging out of his snout.
            Ramona laughed when she saw him, but then she looked closer. There was something moving on that snout!
            “By all the buds and berries, Ralph, wake up!” shouted Ramona. “It’s a flea!” and she jumped back away from Maurice.
            Ralph’s eyes flew open, he sat up!
            Maurice woke, looking all around to see what the emergency could be.
            “Maurice, dear friend,” said Ramona, “you are inhabited  by an army of fleas! We’ve never had fleas here before. Oh, I don’t know what to do!”
            Maurice scratched thoughtfully at his haunch. Ralph looked like  he was thinking fast.
            “The Tansy always worked in the cave. I don’t know what to do to a living person!” cried Ramona.
            “I’m sorry,” said Maurice.
            “Thaga will know,” said Ralph. “She knows everything! We need Thaga!”
            “We do need Thaga!” said Ramona. “Baby, will you and Maurice go up to the house, find Thaga and show her? I’ll stay here and get some food ready. By the time you get back these fish will be fried.”
            “That’s just what we’ll do, Mona,” said Ralph, still yawning. “Come on, Maurice, you heard the Firekeeper!”
            Ramona plumped down on one of the conveniently placed logs there, and started cleaning the fish who had been napping in her five gallon bucket. The scraps went into the fire as she worked.
            “Please hurry, I feel itchy all over,” she said to their retreating backs. “Ew!” she said.
            When the boys got up to the Neanderthal's stone cabin, smoke was pouring out of the chimney, so they wouldn’t be waking anyone, they were glad to see.
            Ralph banged on the door a little louder than usual.
            The door opened immediately, and there was Thaga with her eyebrows up, and Harold at her feet. She had her big striped apron on, her silver hair in a bun well out of the way and her sleeves rolled up.
            “Good to see you, Ralph and Maurice too! It must be some kind of emergency. Are Ramona and Cherry well?”
            “It’s fleas, Thaga! Yes, Ramona and Cherry are well, but a little fussed up! Maurice here came to visit yesterday, and this morning Mona saw fleas on him. She didn’t know how to fight fleas on a person, so she sent us to you! Can you help?” said Ralph, all in a rush.
            “Fleas!” said Thaga. “Oh no, poor Ramona. Poor Maurice. Wait right there!”
            She didn’t invite them in, but vanished back into her kitchen.
            In two shakes she was back with a cloth bag of something.
            “I was kneading dough, but no matter. This is a real emergency! Tell Ramona that this is Daisy Dust. It kills all bugs, and is bad for cats. So send the Pumas out to camp in the woods for a while when she uses it.
            “Dust it all over Maurice, getting it all through his fur. Sorry Maurice, but you’ll feel better when it’s all over. Tell her to dust it on the floor of the cave too. And! If any of you feel something crawling in your hair, treat yourselves the same way you treated Maurice,” instructed Thaga.
            She nodded and said, “Give Ramona my love. I’ll see you all later, flea free! I need to knead. Goodbye.” And she handed the bag to Ralph and shut the door.
            Thus excused, Ralph and Maurice turned around to head for home.
            “Hey, Ralph,” said Maurice, “maybe we should dust me out here before we get back to Ramona. She shouldn’t have to do it.”
            Ralph agreed that it was a sensible idea. So, halfway between the stone cabin and the Home Clearing, Ralph dusted his friend Maurice all over with the Daisy Dust. He worked it into Maurice’s ears, and tail and everything, very firmly with his big hands. Dead fleas began falling from Maurice as he worked.
            “Now you do me,” said Ralph. “Just in case. I can’t tell if I have fleas or I’m just itching in solidarity.”
            Maurice did that. He got Daisy Dust all over Ralph’s hair, until both of them thought it was enough.
            “I think we’re OK now, let’s go back,” said Ralph. A dead flea fell out of his beard.
            Back at the fire circle, Ramona’s big square pan was covered in frying trout. She was sitting there still looking alarmed, but hopeful.
            Ralph explained to Ramona what Thaga had said to do with the Daisy Dust. He also explained that the medicine was bad for cats, and told the Puma bros to hang out in the woods for a day.
            Following directions, Ramona dusted little Cherry, and Blue too, very thoroughly. Then, she did her own hair, with a little help from Ralph.
            Then, just to be sure, she went inside the cave and covered the floor with a dusting of the flower powder. She put the remaining bit in the bag, up on the shelf right beside Maurice’s Book and harmonica. Just in case, you know, though books and harmonicas don’t generally host fleas.
            When she came back out, she said, “Did you ask her about making Maurice a bag for his things?”
            “No, Mona,” Ralph laughed. “It was all about fleas today. You’ll have to bring that up with her later.”
            “You’re right, Baby! Let’s eat these fish. Thank the Maker for Thaga! She always knows!
            “I’ve never seen her fail!” said Ralph happily.
            “I’m sorry I brought fleas, Ramona,” said Maurice. “I didn’t mean to!”
            “It’s alright, Maurice. The fleas are dead or dying, and the food is ready. Let’s eat it!”
            They did, and she also made a pot of coffee in celebration, and to make Maurice feel welcome.

💚🍵💚

           

The Bad Things They Did All Day

 

 

            “Toots, are you there, Honey?” said Suzie, a little exasperated.
            “I’m always here these days,” Toots mrrred back. She was at her usual station. “There was a time. Let me tell you when I roamed the world and I was not here. Well, until night when he called us in.”
            “I’ve never been able to roam. Tell me about it,” sighed Suzie.
            “It’s a lot bigger outside. There is no floor, nor walls. The outside goes on forever. Under your paws are dirt, or sand, or grass, or you can climb trees. If it’s raining you get wet. If the sun shines you get warm. If the wind blows you can feel it in your whiskers,” said Toots, looking a little pensive.
            “I just knew it would be different. A house is like a box with things in it,” said Suzie. “It sounds so wonderful outside!”
            “Ah, it’s wild out there. There are Tricky Dogs, Sneks, Bad Birds who will eat you right up! There are pretty good reasons for a small cat to not be out there!” Toots said. “I speak from experience.”

            There was a loud crash somewhere near Suzie…Sweetie ran by like his tail was on fire.
            “Look where I can go!” said Sweetie, furiously swarming up the painter’s easel. “You do it now! Come on, Booker!” he yowled. “Never noticed this thing before!”
            “But, what if she doesn’t like it?” said Booker, staring up at his brother, who was on the top crossbar staring at the ceiling as if he might suddenly take a flying leap at it.
            “What?” said Sweetie. “Who?”
            “Ma P. That’s her thing you’re climbing!” said Booker.
            “Wheeee! It’s great, I can see the whole house from up here!” exulted Sweetie.

            “Speaking of wild things, and danger, Toots, can you hear what’s going on in this house? They’ve run amok.”
            “Have they actually broken anything yet?” Toots asked.
            “No…. But they mess up all the rugs! And they claw at window screens! They jump inside the fridge, Toots! I never behaved like that in my whole life! I think they’re broken,” announced Suzie. “Something is Purrwackie™!”
            “Who’s Purrwackie™?” asked Mr. Baby as he strolled by Suzie, who appeared to be talking to herself again.
            “The curtain climbers,” huffed Suzie at his retreating back.
            “Aw, they’re good kids! You’re just jealous, Suzie,” laughed Mr. Baby, looking back and winking.
            “I must say, your boyfriend has a kindly outlook!” giggled Toots. “Maybe you should jump into the fridge and just see how exciting it is!”
            “You ought to see them there lurking behind the steak packages! Quite mad,” said Suzie. “And, he’s not my boyfriend! He’s fat!”
            “Booker too?” said Toots, gasping for air as she laughed.
            “Sometimes!” said Suzie.
            “Maybe you should try it! Let me know what happens,” said Toots.
            “I’d probably get trapped in there!” said Suzy, Cautiously!
            “Oh, OK. Maybe don’t sneak into the fridge,” said Toots. “Caution is always best!”
            On that note the conversation drew to a close. The house was suddenly quiet. The Scouts must have gone to bed. All was serene, unruffled, and quiet.
            The fridge purred softly in the background.

😹😻

           

A Timely Word From Maeve and Mable

 

Common Tansy

            It was the very bosom of a summer day, warm as a drowsy cloud. Brilliant flecks of sunshine dotted the forest floor. Insects hummed, bunnies hopped, and lesser birds called to each other lazily.
            A couple of matronly Great Ravens spoke together on a high branch, from which they could espy the doings in the forest nearby. A slight breeze trickled through height where they rested.
            “Well, now that he’s here, what’s to become of him?” said Mabel. “I did what I could for him.”
            “You did well, Sister,” said Maeve, turning a bright eye upon the other.
            “Praise from you, dear Maeve, is praise indeed,” murmured Mable.
            “It is only deserved, my dear, but I wonder what’s to become of him now?” said Maeve. “He has a foot in each of two worlds. Neither here nor there. Not really.”
            “How so?” said Mable, looking down to the forest floor, where Maurice was sitting on a bit of deadfall, playing a bluesy tune on his harmonica.
            “It looks like he is trying to bring Branson to the Forest,” remarked Maeve. “He’s a Howler, a real one, and yet there he sits, tail tucked out of sight, in a coat and pants!”
            “What’s to be done?” asked Mable.
            “Well, observe. Every few bars, he stops and scratches furiously at his own hairy hide, but encased as it is in pants, etc., he’s not making much headway with whatever is biting him,” said Maeve. “I would hate to see him bring fleas into the Home Clearing! Ramona wouldn’t thank us for bringing that!”
            “Ah, no, Ramona wouldn't thank us for that,” observed Mable. “By the way, do Forest Keepers ever have fleas?”
            “Some do, and they scratch themselves to bits. Ramona doesn’t allow fleas in the Home Clearing. She puts dried Tansy under the beds in the cave, but I think the fleas just don’t go there,” said Maeve. "Even fleas have that much sense."
            “A real Howler, living in the Forest must be clean. Unwashed human clothing is not clean. He must be devested somehow, Mable,” said Maeve. “I will think of a Song.”
            The sun moved his bright spots across the forest floor, and the wind scurried through the fir branches as Maeve composed a Song for Maurice.
            “I’ve got it, let’s approach him,” said Maeve. “But first, listen, Dear,” and Maeve sang it for Mable.
            Maurice was still hanging out playing his harmonica when the two Ravens lit on the forest floor before him.
            “Greetings, Good Howler Maurice, “ said Maeve. “Mable and I have a song for you!”
            “What!” said Maurice, while scratching under his left arm. “Mable, nah… Come on!”
            “Hello, Pilgrim,” said Mable, with a Raven giggle.
            “But, how can this be? What have you done with the Buick?” said Maurice.
            Mable just winked, and smiled a Raven smile.
            While Maurice was still trying to organize his thoughts, Maeve and Mable began to sing.
            Maeve’s Song was called Now To Cast Off The Contemptible Clothing!
            Maurice listened with his mouth slightly agape and his tongue lolling a bit.
            “You have to ditch the pants, shirt, and coat, Maurice. The fleas live there,” said Maeve. “Ramona would not thank you for bringing fleas into the Home Clearing!”
            “But what shall I do with them?” cried Maurice.
            “Bury them, burn them, put them under a big rock, doesn’t matter. A True Howler doesn’t wear Man’s things into the Great Forest!” said Maeve.
            So, Maurice being a doggie sort of a creature, dug furiously with his hands until he had a deep enough hole. Then he packed his clothing in the bottom of the hole, and pushed the forest soil back over it. Then he tamped it down with his feet.
            “Much better!” said Maeve.
            “Must I bury my book, pen, and harmonica?” said Maurice.
            “No, there are no fleas on them, but you need a way to carry them about,” said Maeve.
            “What shall I do?” said Maurice.       
            “First we must go to the river, you shall swim and wash yourself, then we will go find Ramona and ask her!” said Maeve.
            The Ravens flew and Maurice trotted along below them, all the way to the silver river. Then he bathed himself, while the two waited, with his things on a boulder beside them.
            Maurice came out of the water and shook himself nearly dry, as all canids do. Then he sat in the warm air for a while, to fluff up. By now, the sun was starting to think about evening, and the light was different, and the shadows longer, reaching nearly across the river.
            Maeve and Mable flew, and Maurice trotted, carrying his book and so on.
            When they got to the Home Clearing, Ralph, Ramona, Cherry, Blue, Bob, and Berry, were all sitting down to a rather large roast of young buck.
            “Maurice!” called Ralph, “Welcome, come and sit! Maeve, Mable, come and eat with us!”
            “This is wonderful!” said Ramona. “Come and sit by my fire!”
            “Hi!” said Cherry, not quite as shy as she was before.
            Blue woofed a bit, and the Pumas grinned secret cat grins.
            Maeve and Mable alternated telling bits of the story of how Maurice came to be there, and explained that he needed some sort of a bag or something for his book, pen, and harmonica.
            “Hello, Ralph and Ramona, and Cherry! It is so good to be here at last,” said Maurice.
            They all had Ramona’s good dinner together, just catching up, and asking about every one back and forth.
            After dinner, Ramona said, “Thaga can probably make a bag to go over your shoulder, Maurice, but for tonight, and until she does, just put your things up on the shelf in the cave.”
            “Thank you, Ramona,” said Maurice happily.
            That night, Ralph, and Maurice, and Blue, and Bob and Berry all had a campout under the stars by the fire circle.

✤

Just June Roses for Purrsday

 

Love & Roses

That's about it!

I'm wishing you a day full of happy Purring™!

Let's just talk amongst ourselves, as we always do.

It's a pleasure and a privilege to see you here!

🌸

They Love Two Things Above All Else

 

 

            Thaga, that wise and resourceful Neanderthal matron, had a wee cool pantry dug into the earth underneath the house. Ooog dug it there for her. There was a door and stairway, just as if it led down into a basement. The ancient earth, into which it was dug kept all her things cool, almost as nicely as a refrigerator.
            In addition to spuds, cabbages, onions, carrots, and garlic, she had a large earthenware crock full of brine in which she stored her rolls of butter that she traded with the cow woman down the street for. The butter was in exchange for garden stuff, and Thaga’s very good bread.
            Of course, she kept cheese and sausages down there too. Naturally.
            One day, having emptied the butter dish upstairs, Thaga descended into her little pantry, or more properly, her in-house cellar, to get a new roll of butter. Ooog would want butter with his bit of lunch when he came in from the garden.
            As she was going down the stairs, she shut the door carefully behind herself. When she came to the bench where the butter crock stood, she found the lid knocked off and on the floor. In addition to that, one roll of butter was laying out on the bench. It was covered with small prints like hand prints and there were several bites take from it. Thaga was astounded.
            “Now, who could have done this,” she asked herself. “I certainly did not! Ooog would never, and Harold the cat can’t get down here. I don’t believe Harold would raid my butter crock anyhow. He gets all he wants up in the kitchen,” she continued.
            With a little frown wrinkle on her forehead, Thaga looked all around the small cellar room. It didn’t seem as if any thing could hide there. But she searched anyhow.
            There was nothing hiding behind the boxes of vegetables, or the stacked cheeses, or among the bottled jams and sauces on their shelf. She moved the hanging sausages around and there was clearly no one there.
            She had several ropes of garlic, and dried peppers hanging from the overhead too. From the corner of her eye, as she was looking under cabbages, Thaga noticed movement in the garlic and peppers.
            “What have we here,” quoth Thaga to herself. And quick as a bunny she whipped those ropes of dried things to the side.
            Hanging there with his fingers looped through a couple of hooks in the ceiling was a small hairy creature similar in build to a human being. He was about 16 inches tall. He looked at Thaga with sharp black eyes and kicked at her face with his feet.
            Dodging the grubby little feet, Thaga grabbed those same feet and turned him upside down and shook him firmly, as if he were a dirty feather duster.
            “Who are you? Tell me your name, or I’ll plunge you in the sauerkraut!” said Thaga, though in truth, she would never do that to her sauerkraut!
            The little thing squirmed and screamed, but couldn’t get loose of Thaga’s terrific grip. Finally, he went limp and said, “Maug. I am Maug! Let me go!”
            “Maug, I confound thee!” said Thaga in a firm loud voice. Nothing happened. He was still there wriggling in her grip, spitting and hissing too.
            “You lied! You lied!” sang Thaga. “Tell me the truth, or I’ll boil you like a hen!” This was also highly unlikely. But, why tell the truth to a little black eyed forest grubber?
            It screamed horribly, until Thaga began to worry about Ooog possibly hearing the noise and becoming worried. She hung on, and shook him until he was quiet.
            “Tell me your name!” she demanded sternly. “Butter thief! Dirty thing in my cellar room!” He was silent, so she shook him some more. “How did you get in here?”
            “Ha! I’ll never tell! Fat old lady!” it spat.
            Obviously, he had dug his way in. Thaga had noticed a rabbit sized hole behind the garlic.
            “Tell me your name, gnome, elf, or whatever you think you are! Now!” yelled Thaga.
            “Into the pot with you then!” hollered Thaga. She shook him some more.
            “Verm! It’s Verm, fat old thing! My ma called me Vermmmmmm!” it sang in a high squeaky voice. As he cried out, he dropped something. It was a plain little golden ring. It was Thaga’s very own wedding ring!
            “Got it off my finger! Dirty little thief!” she said.
            Thaga grinned to herself, because Thaga knew a couple of things.
            “Very well, Verm. I confound thee. Banished you are to the forest earth. Dig there grimkin! Be gone!” said Thaga.
            Instantly, he was gone, as gone as if he had never been there. There wasn’t even a puff of smoke to remember him by.
            She bent down and retrieved her ring, and slipped it on her finger.
            “That worked pretty well,” said Thaga with satisfaction. “I never had to do that before!”
            She put the lid back on the butter crock, clean side down, promising herself to scrub it or get Ooog to cut another one. She picked up the befouled roll of butter to take upstairs and use for starting fires.
            Then she walked firmly up the twelve or so steps to the cellar door and passed into her kitchen. When she got up there, Harold the cat looked at her and said, “You should have left the door open, Ma’am. I would have taken care of that rat for you!”
            “Thank you, Harold! I appreciate the offer. My way was much less messy!” said she, giving Harold a nod and a wink.
            She wrapped the dirty butter in some old paper and put it in the kindling box.
            “Don’t eat this butter, Harold. It’s too dirty!” she told her cat, as he watched.
            “Meow!” said Harold. Then we he went outside to see what Ooog was doing. The front door was open, and sunlight was streaming in making bright squares on the stone floor.
            When Ooog came in for lunch, followed by Harold, Thaga told him the whole story, and asked him to close off the tunnel Verm had dug into her cellar room.

🐀