The Voices From Under The Desk

 

(It looked an awful lot like this to Suzy and Toots.)

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            “Suzy, where are you? I haven’t heard a word from you in days,” said Toots from her undisclosed location in the shop.
            “Shhh! I’m under the desk,” said Suzy. “It’s the only way.”
            “I see. What is it this time?” Toots kind of rolled her eyes. She had a pretty good idea.
            “They sneak around and look at me,” said Suzy, plaintively.
            “Well, Suzy,” said Toots, “At least you can see them! You have that advantage.”
            “That could be taken two ways, Toots. Would you like to come down here and check it out?” Suzy laughed a little to herself. “Maybe between the two of us we could teach them a lesson or two. Growling doesn’t seem to work consistently.”
            “Sure! What a good idea. We’ve never visited each other’s homes yet! Sure, hang on a second…” said Toots.
            A few moments later,” as they say on SpongeBob.
            “Well, hm? This is it, huh? Seems pretty secure. It’s close, you have carpet and a good LOS,” said Toots. “That’s really important!”
            “Oh, I can see them alright!” agreed Suzy,
            There is some agitation out on the floor.
            “Hey, who are you talking to?” said Sweetie, nosily.
            “Yeah, I wanna see,” said Booker.
            “None of your business. Boo!” said Suzy.
            Sweetie begins munching Suzy’s little bowl of kibble just like his bowl of kibble in the kitchen.
            “You see how it is, Toots,” said Suzy.
            “Who is Toots? Is she a ghost? Why can’t I see her?” said Sweetie.
            “Because she’s in Texas,” said Suzy, enjoying his confusion.
            “Nah! That’s stupid. I don’t believe in Toots, and Texas sounds made up!”
            “Let me see!” said Booker, shoving his head under the desk too.
            “You two are rather rude, you know,” said Toots, “if I were here, I would teach you a thing or two young Tomcats need to know. In fact, I wish I were here.”
            “Do you hear growling, Booker?” said Sweetie.
            “Doesn’t sound like Suzy. I bet it’s that ghost she’s talking to!” said Booker, eyes wide.
            “Let’s get out of here!” yowled Sweetie, tail all brushed up, as was Booker’s tail too.
            “Well, good. Now, they think that under the desk is haunted!” laughed Suzy.
            “Glad to assist. You should come visit the shop sometime. Get to know Sammie!” said Toots.
            “Good idea!” said Suzy. “I hope we don’t scare her!”
            “Don’t worry, Sammie is a wee bitty bit savvier than those two big babies!” said Toots.
            “It’s a deal. Next time!” said Suzy, who was getting very sleepy.
            “Next time,” said Toots before she withdrew from under the desk. 

            She was sleepy too.

💚😺😸💚

It Looked Like a Warzone at the Ranger Station

 

Well, nearby!

 
            It was cold, snow was falling. In an hour it would be fully dark.
            The Sheriff’s dept. was there, Search and Rescue were there. Many volunteers were also parked at the ranger station. But the searchers were nowhere to be seen, as they were out combing the forest around the campground.
            If the search continued overnight, support vehicles would be there with food and drinks for the searchers.
            Rick and Dexter were running a sort of open house in the office. Neither had gone home. Right at that moment Hannah was up in the mobile making very sustaining type cookies for the searchers to snack on with their paper cups of coffee, compliments of the ranger station.
            One very freaked out set of parents, the girl’s mom and dad, already sat in the office staying warm, drinking coffee, and waiting. Rick had heard that the boy’s parents were on their way from Oregon. It might be morning before they arrived.
            “Maybe by morning this whole thing will be over,” Rick thought to himself, but didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to promise anything he couldn’t deliver to the suffering man and woman sitting silently in his office.
            Dexter was doing his best to present a hopeful presence for their sake, but Rick knew Dexter was very worried.
            The missing kids, Myra and Jeff, had chatted with Dexter before they took off hiking that morning. He had warned them that more snow was coming and that it was cold, and getting colder. Jeff had said they wouldn’t even be gone until dark. They were just going to hike the granny trail behind the campground.
            Now, it was getting dark and Jeff’s Explorer sat cold and empty. They hadn’t returned.
            Rick knew that everyone was doing their best, hunting for the two young people, but Rick had a sick feeling in his heart, and he was worried about time. To be lost in a snowstorm at night in the park was something like a death sentence, in his opinion. They couldn’t last long.
            “Dexter, will you hold down the fort here? I’ve got an idea,” Rick said quietly to Dexter out by the coffee pot.
            “Sure,” said Dexter. He watched Rick speak in a low voice to Myra’s parents and step outside. Dexter had a pretty good idea what Rick was thinking. He’d been thinking it too.
            Rick wanted to talk to Ralph, most urgently. He needed Ralph’s expertise with the park and the mountains. He stood there in the parking lot with the snow falling all around him, and piling up on all of those vehicles, and he wished with all of his heart that he could just call Ralph somehow.
            While he was standing there, he heard something land on the station dumpster. It was that big raven that hung around with Ralph. She was as black as the night but contrasted against the snow. She cocked her head and gave him an enquiring look with one sharp black eye.
            She made a low chuckling kind of raven sound in her throat, and spoke, “Are you looking for Ralph, Mr. Ranger?”
            He felt as if he were entering the realms of magic, he knew she spoke, but not that she read minds. “Yes, Maeve. I want to speak to Ralph most urgently.”
            “He knows, come with me, Mr. Ranger,” she said. “He’s waiting for you.”
            So, Rick followed Maeve into the Great Forest, which is just adjacent to the station parking lot. She flew in little bursts and he followed on foot.
            It was snowy in the Forest, but not like back at the station and campground. In a few moments, Rick saw the fire burning in the clearing. Ralph was standing by the fire, and Ramona was sitting.
            “Thanks for coming so quickly,” said Ralph.
            “I need your help, Ralph. We’ve got two lost kids, well young adults. We’re running out of time and nobody is finding anything,” said Rick, feeling that magic tug again. “Why thank me, did you know I would need you?”
            “Oh, you know. I kinda thought so. See, I know where they are, and you’re right. They’re running out of time,” said Ralph.
            “What can we do?” said Rick.
            “We can go get them. But you gotta prepare yourself. I’m not sure any human has ever gone where we’re going to go exactly. Hang on, I have to go get something,” Ralph said.
            Ralph left the fire circle and went into the cave for a moment. While he was gone, Ramona said, “It’s going to be OK. But yes, you do need to hurry.”
            When Ralph came back, he carried something that looked like a dull golden cable looped over his hands. “Watch this,” he said. Then he stretched the golden cable out into a circle and shook it. It brightened up, and hung in the air. It expanded to about 8 feet across.
            Rick’s head kind of swam, and he felt a bit dizzy.
            “What is it?” he said weakly.
            “A doorway. A portal, if you like,” said Ralph. “I know where the young people are. They walked way up on the mountain, and now they are lost. We must step through and bring them back. I hope they can handle seeing me! I didn’t think it would work for me to go alone.”
            “Alright, Ralph. I believe you. I think I know you pretty well,” said Rick.  
            So, Ralph stepped through the gleaming circle, to show Rick how it was done. Rick took a big breath and stuck his right foot through. There was solid snow out there, so he stepped on through, joining Ralph where he stood on a steeply inclined path in the dark, with snow falling heavily all around them.
            Ralph gathered the portable portal up into a few loops and put it around his neck.
            “They’re over there under that little ledge,” said Ralph. He was right.
            Rick stuck his head down where he could see under the overhanging rocks. “Hi,” he said. “We’re here to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
“I can,” said the boy. “I’m not sure about Myra. She’s pretty sleepy. Who are you, anyhow,” he said, beginning to sound excited, and beginning to crawl out into the open.
            “I’m Rick from the ranger station where you talked to my trainee this morning. My good friend who is your real rescuer is Ralph. Prepare yourself.”
            “I’ll try,” said Jeff as he crawled the rest of the way out.
            “Hi,” said Ralph. “If she can’t walk, I better carry her. We need to get her out of the cold right now.”
            Jeff kind of wavered, visibly, but he finally rallied and said, “Hi. Maybe I’m delirious. Maybe not. Hello, gentlemen. Please do carry Myra, Ralph, sir.”
            “Hang on for a second,” said Ralph. He prepared the portable portal again. Jeff looked like he might bolt, but for the sake of Myra, he didn’t.
            Ralph reached down into the rough shelter and scooped the girl up. She appeared to be asleep. “Follow me,” he said.
            So, first Ralph, carrying Myra, stepped through, Then Jeff followed, as in a dream, then Rick, feeling pretty dreamy himself.
            The whole party emerged in that little patch of land right behind the station dumpster.
            “Her parents are in my office,” said Rick. “Maybe we better take her in there.”
            Myra had rallied a little bit and was trying to wriggle out of Ralph’s arms, so he set her gently on the snowy ground.
            “We’ll walk her into the office. Thanks, Ralph.”
            “Thank you, Ralph,” said Jeff, hanging on to Myra. “Now I know something nobody I know knows. If that makes sense.”
            “Makes tons of sense,” laughed Ralph. “Now take her to her mama. It’s cold out here!”
            Ralph gathered up his golden portal and hung it in loops around his neck as he and Rick watched Jeff take Myra in to see her parents.
            “You know, the excitement is just beginning now. How are they going to explain their rescue? How can they explain anything, but there they are, fully alive,” said Rick.
            “Oh, nobody will believe them. They will chalk it up to cold and exposure and loss of faculties, won’t they? It’ll be OK,” said Ralph. “Maybe you can smooth the waters a little bit.”
            “Everything OK, Boss?” said the Raven who had suddenly appeared as if called.
            “Yup, Birdie, everything’s well that ends well. Isn’t that what they say?”
            Ralph disappeared down the path into the Forest with his portal around his neck and his bird on his shoulder, and he was laughing softly.
            Rick headed over to his office to call off the search and to smooth the waters, if he could.
            He was beginning to imagine what the news would say about this one.

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A Place to Chat, September 27, 2026

 

Booker says he's not coming out.

Nobody can make him!

Additionally, he and Sweetie would like you to know,

that Suzy is just fine.

She can come out from under the desk any time.

We promise.

So,

Please have a happy Suzday, all, including the old girl, herself!

💙

Photo by BW.

That One Time My Navigator & I Were Driving In Idaho

Do you recognize this house?

            Since we were traveling in Idaho, we went looking for it. It's the house where Napoleon lived in the small-time cult classic movie, Napoleon Dynamite. 

            The first time I saw it, I didn't know where it was filmed before it started. But the opening scene happened at that house and I knew! It looks like a million other houses in Idaho.

            The story took place in Pocatello, but the house wasn't really there. It took a little research to find it. I wanted a photo for my girls, who all loved the movie.

            It's so real, that there is an amateur flavor to it. I recommend it. It's fun. You'd get a kick out of it!

            I hope you have a lovely Catfurday, with all the joys life can provide!

🐦‍⬛🍁💚🍁🐈‍⬛

A Classic Car, In Good Running Condition

 

 
            In the morning, when Rick arrived at the ranger station, the sky was clear, and dawn was near. There was a good six inches of crunchy frozen snow on the ground, and in the parking areas. There was a set of tire tracks lit up by his headlights. “Mhm,” thought Ranger Rick.
            The tracks led up to the campground parking area, where a small, old-fashioned RV sat. Snow campers, apparently.
            Covered in the same six inches of snow, there was an old black car. It was a Buick, parked two spots over from Rick’s usual place. Rick was guessing that it was an early 1950s model. That part wasn’t a mystery, because his grandpa had driven a 1953 Buick back in Kansas. It was also black.
            He looked for tire tracks leading to the Buick. There were none.
            Rick could see no reason for it to be there. He didn’t see any footprints around it, and there were no spare people wandering around, as far as he could see.
            Right on schedule, at 7:55, Dexter appeared. He wore his dayglo orang earflap hat and carried a foil covered plate which was steaming in the cold air as he came through the door. It turned out to be a plate of those little egg and other stuff things people cook in muffin pans for breakfast. Hannah had sent them along for both Rick and Dexter’s morning snack.
            “Dexter, do you know anything about that old Buick out there?” said Rick, by way of greeting.
The savory scent drifted through the air. Hannah was an excellent cook.
            “No. I don’t know anything about it. We didn’t see it come in. I wonder whose it is?” said Dexter, setting his plate down in the kitchen by the coffee pot.
            “It’s not illegal or anything,” said Rick. “I just can’t figure it out.”
            “I wonder if they had engine trouble and had to park it somewhere?” said Dexter, looking out of the window at the old car.
            “Did you notice that there are no footprints around it? Riddle me that, boy reporter,” said Rick. He sat down at his desk with his coffee.
            “They must have parked there before it started snowing. You can eat these things out of hand. No forks needed,” said Dexter, coming out of the kitchen, doing just that.
            “We were here before it started snowing,” said Rick.
            It was a quiet, lazy day at the ranger station and in the campground. The old RV took off, the passenger waving in the general direction of the office as they drove away. The old Buick sat there. At least it did most of the day. Rick and Dexter kept checking to see if some hiker appeared, but nothing happened. No hardy soul emerged from the forest or anywhere else. No stranger seeking help came to the office door.
            Right before 5PM, Rick went to the window to take another look.
            It was gone. The crazy part was that there were no tire tracks leading out. There were only the four marks in the snow where the Buick’s tires had been, and still no footprints.
            “Hey, Dexter. It’s gone. What the hell,” said Rick.
            Dexter looked up from his phone, where he had been looking at short videos. “Huh?” he said and joined Rick at the window.
            “I know it was really there. You can see the tire prints. You saw it,” said Rick.
            “Now you see it, now you don’t! Yeah, I saw it. But now I don’t,” said Dexter.

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The Snow Began to Fall

 

 
            It was a quick transition between fall and early winter that year. First there were light freezes in the Great Forest. Then, one late morning when the clouds were low and milky, and the forest was huddled in silence, small flakes of snow began to fall.
            Back at the ranger station, Rick stood drinking coffee, looking out of the window facing the parking area. He saw the first tiny flakes. He started considering when it would be time to close the campground for the winter. Dexter and Hannah could stay, of course, but he figured they would rent a place somewhere else. There would be feet of snow before very long.
            Now, a true Ozark Howler is not quite as weatherproof as Ralph or any of his kind. Maurice had grown up at a more temperate elevation, not the top of a mountain range. When the snow began to fall, he was just waking up in the old farmhouse. It was cold, but he welcomed the tiny sparkling flakes like a kid does. He ran out in front of the house and squinted up into the milky clouds. He tried to bite some of the flakes as they fell, like a silly canid would. He ran back into the house and laid his book on the kitchen counter and wrote a few words about the snow.
            His stomach growled.
            Coming back down to earth, he decided to catch something and take it to Suzy and Uncle Bob, so it would save Bob a hunting trip and Suzy might be agreeable with cooking for them all.
            He went out behind the farmhouse to the forgotten, overgrown orchard and stood silently listening. The snow flakes were a little bigger now, but he resisted the urge to snap at them so that he didn’t alert the turkeys he was looking for.
            Soon he heard small cautious steps among the dry leaves. Hesitant, irregular steps such as all have seen chickens do.
            Maurice stood, gray and grizzled, and nearly invisible against the back of the old farmhouse. When the flock of turkey hens got close, he grabbed a couple of them by their legs. Then he loped off to the Stump House.
            “Wake up, Bob! Hey, Suzy, look what I have!” sang Maurice as he neared their still silent home. “Wake up! It’s snowing!” he called loudly.
            Suzy woke first, as was normal, and came out thinking about fire and food.
            “Good morning, Maurice!” she said. “I see what you have!”
            Bob came out blinking and yawning. “Oh, hi, Maurice! Thanks, man!”
            “Do you need more firewood, Suzy?” asked Maurice. But a Firekeeper always needs more firewood, so she said yes. Therefore, Bob and Maurice went out to forage for fuel while Suzy got the turkeys ready to cook.
            The snow continued to fall. It began to rest in little white clumps on leaves, and to settle on the ground between grass blades. The sky was opaque with it. The temperature dropped. Maurice was still tickled with the snow, but he was beginning to feel it in his feet, and down his back. He shivered.
            They found a small maple and being content with that, they pushed it over, and Uncle Bob, who is still a Squatch after all, was able to drag it out of the ground. Then he pulled it all the way back to the Stump House. It was green wood, but as we all know, green wood is better than no wood. They broke it up and added it to the dry wood already there, it was fine. Soon Suzy was cooking the turkeys, all cut up in serving pieces in a big flat baking pan over the fire.
            While they waited, Maurice played a few of their tunes, and Uncle Bob made up new comic rhymes to make Maurice and Suzy laugh.
            Maurice was feeling the cold on his backside, but his front facing the fire was warm. He began to think about the feasibility of making a fire in the old iron stove in the farmhouse. He had no idea how to go about this, but he was thinking about it, because he knew he was going to have to go home again.
            When they had eaten both turkeys, the snow was getting to be about three inches deep.
            “I think I better go home now,” said Maurice. “Thanks for cooking, Suzy!”

            "No, thank you, Maurice," said Suzy.

            "Come back soon!" said Uncle Bob.
            The first snowstorm is a magical thing. In fact, Maurice had never seen anything so cold, clear, and so beautiful. He was full of the wonder of it. And it just kept falling all around like some kind of a dream. “Shhhh,” the air seemed to say.
            He felt that this called for a new kind of music. Snow music. Mystical, not really blue at all. He began experimenting with some new tunes. He tried to get the snow into the sound. Sometimes he closed his eyes, just feeling the snow fall on his face and tail. He stuck his tongue out to taste it too. His steps slowed as he concentrated on the notes.
            Late afternoon began to drift toward evening. He looked around suddenly, noticing that it was beginning to get dark. Nothing looked familiar. Maurice wasn’t sure where he was. Even the familiar path to the farmhouse seemed to be utterly gone. Maurice began to suspect that he was lost, and he didn’t know how it had happened.
            He began to play Going Home Alone, while he considered his next move.
            He saw movement up ahead. He couldn’t make out what it was up there, but it was tall and seemed to be of a color with the falling snow. Maybe this was a hint of some kind.
            So, in his puzzled state, it occurred to Maurice to approach the movement. Ah, but it moved then, further away. Maurice followed. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was intrigued and it was a magical evening.
            As he followed, he played Going Home Alone again. Then he played the snow tune. He remembered the words he had heard sung back to him the first time he went home after the incident. He played Going Home Alone again. A voice began to sing.
 
            You’re not alone.
            Not alone.
            In the night, in the dark.
            Your heart is heard,
            loudly, clearly.
           
            His heart beat faster. The snow was up to his ankles, and he kicked it up in little puffs as he loped along following. He knew he would follow this voice anywhere it led. And follow he did, until things began to look familiar. First, he saw the old apple tree, bare, against the snow. Then he saw the door of his old abandoned farmhouse. Someone was standing on the steps, and she was smiling at him. At Maurice!
            Oh! What a beauty she was! She was icy white, she was tall, she was fantastical, impossible and yet, there she was. Her ears were pointed, her tail was curled. Her eyes, though he didn’t know this yet, were icy blue. Her Howler snout was long, and her teeth were very shiny indeed.
            “How?” whispered Maurice, frozen there to his spot in wonder.
            The snow fell down around them, growing deeper by the moment.
            “Come in, Pilgrim,” she said, “and be at rest.”
            So, he followed her into the farmhouse. Inside it was warm. A fire burnt, crackling in the old iron stove. There was a glow in the room. He could smell something good cooking. His steps were slow, and he could barely breathe.
            “Mable?” said Maurice. “How?”
            “You’re not alone,” she said.

❄️💙❄️

Editing Day Open Thread ✒️📃

             I've been thinking about rules for writing. For me. I don't presume to tell anyone else how to go about it. Of course, if you like my rules, you may certainly adopt them!
            1. Do it early in the day.

            2. Do it every day.

            3. Don't explain, or state. Demonstrate!

            4. Don't let anything stop you, even yourself.

            5. Don't forget to feed and nurture surrounding live creatures! 

            6. Go outside. Look at the imponderable enormity of the world. Get some sun. 

            7. You're going to write some dumb stuff sometimes. It happens. Proceed. Continue.

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