The Stump In The Meadow

 

 

            “Honey is even better than cookies, Prince Twigg, Helper of Bees!” said Beatrice when she caught up with Twigg out by the river one day.
            “That’s true, Beatrice,” said Twigg. "But they were good!"
            Twigg had been thinking about a gift for Marge.
            “You know, I was there when you talked with the girl who brought you gifts. That was a very kind thing she did,” said Beatrice. “I know, of course, that she was hoping that it would buy her a meeting with you.”
            “I knew that. It took me a whole day to decide to appear, Beatrice,” said Twigg. “But thinking back to how she looked sleeping there like a little kid, I decided that she was harmless.”
            Twigg had been sitting beside the river, watching the water roll by, when Beatrice found him. She was looking for flowers of course, as she always is. She stopped to talk to him out of respect and gratitude.
            As he had promised, Twigg went back to the old green pickup the next day after the big rescue. Using the apple box again, he had gathered up the remaining young bees in their capsules and the remaining honeycomb. The skeleton crew of bees then followed him as he brought the last of the hive to their new home.
            “I wanted to tell you that you can have some honeycomb for the girl. Bring some kind of a container. We can spare some for you!” said Beatrice as she buzzed off to do her duty.
            “OK, bee lady, you’ll see me soon,” said Twigg. “Her name is Marge,” he shouted at her retreating form.
            He decided that he would surprise Marge with a gift of his own. What he wanted to do was to make a little basket to hold the honeycomb that Beatrice had promised. He decided to weave it of green sapling bark, which is very flexible. He couldn’t get very long pieces of bark, but he didn’t need them to be very long. Just a foot or so.
            He slipped back around to the meadow and pulled up a couple of two year old alder saplings to work with. Later, at home, he peeled the bark off in strips. Before they started to dry up, he made a shallow round basket, like a tray, with a nice rolled edge. Ramona had taught him, and he truly enjoyed the craft.
            He lined it with maple leaves, and it looked very fine.
            Twigg also collected nice rocks. He was fond of agates, which were not too hard to find in the river gravel. He thought an agate would dress up his gift, so he searched through his collection, which he kept under his bed in an olive oil can, to find a good one.

            He decided to give Marge a nice clear amber agate. It was very pretty.
            All that done, he showed Ramona his basket.
            “It’s for Marge. I’m going to leave her a surprise on the gifting stump,” he told Ramona. “I need to go see the bees and get some honeycomb too.”
            Ramona couldn’t help laughing when she said, “I think that’s really sweet, Honey!”
            “I hope she finds it before some tall bear does, Mama,” said Twigg, with a grin.
            “Well, so do I, Twigg!” said Ramona. “Go see your bees! I will be here when you get back.” And, that’s just what he did the very next thing.
            When Twigg got to the little bee house basket it was buzzing loudly! Bees flew in and out just like bees always have done forever and ever. He knelt down by the little opening on the front so he could talk to Bernadette.
            “Hey, hello Bernadette,” he said. “I know you are very busy, but Beatrice told me to come by and get a bit of honeycomb for my friend. Would that be alright?”
            From deep inside the little house he heard a husky little voice speak. “Greetings, Twigg, Helper of Bees! Of course, of course. I will have my bees cut a section loose for you and it will drop down to the ground. In a moment, just pick up the whole house and reach underneath and it will be there for you!”
            “Thank you Bernadette, Mother of Bees,” Twigg said, and he did as he was told.
            Now, having gotten all the bits together in his new basket, he made his way over to the meadow to the gifting stump, chosen by Marge for their meeting place.
            She wasn’t there, of course, as it was during school hours. But he thought she might check by later in the afternoon if he wished that she would.
            He carefully laid the gift on top of the stump. Then he gathered some fern stems to cover it and hopefully keep the bugs away. He gave that some thought, and it was so.
            He picked some of those tiny pink and white daisy-like flowers that grow wild if you let them, and he made a ring of them on top of the ferns. It looked nice. Then he went home.
            Marge alighted from the school bus thinking about something for Twigg. As the bus rolled off down the dusty dirt road, she got an idea. She yelled “hi” at Enid who was in the kitchen working on something and slipped into her room. She looked around at all of her treasures. She rejected all of them until her gaze landed on her Rubik’s cube. Yes!
            “Mom,” she said, “I’m going to go to the meadow for a little while, I’ll take my phone.”
            Enid said, “OK,” and off she went, Rubik’s cube in one pocket and iPhone in the other.
            As she passed Thaga and Ooog’s house, she paused again. “I think I’d like to meet those people, instead of sneaking past their house all the time,” she thought. Then she continued on to the meadow. Afternoon was getting on a little, but it was still sunny.
            She headed right for Twigg’s stump, as she thought of it. There was something on top! First she saw the little daisies. She put them in her Carhartts front pocket very carefully. Then she removed the ferns, revealing the bark basket. In it, she found a beautiful honey colored agate as big as an egg. In addition, she found a nice piece of honeycomb. She was so pleased that she called out into the air, “thank you Twigg, wherever you are!” She hoped that somehow he could hear her.
            Marge placed the Rubik’s cube on the stump. She would explain the game to  him later after he had examined it. She sat down on the grass and ate some of the honeycomb. It was too much for one snack. She had never actually been given any honeycomb before and felt that it was quite a special gift.
            She put the honey colored agate in her pocket, wondering how she was going to slip a handmade basket and a honeycomb past Enid. Not too difficult, but somewhat risky.
            After Marge had gone to bed, Enid put her daughter’s clothing into the wash. In the front pocket of the beloved Carhartts, she found the little daisies all dried up. She sighed and wondered what that was all about.

💛

🌸

Out In The Meadow

 

 

            Marge, unfortunately named, poor girl, was one of those smart kids of the larger size. She was the type who knows and seeks a lot but doesn’t say much. It was better that way. She had noticed that, from when she was younger. Least said, least hassled.
            Often adults didn’t even notice that she was there, with a book, somewhere within earshot of their conversations. She was so quiet that she became functionally invisible.
            On this particular day, her mother and her mother’s best bosom friend from the 80’s had been discussing sightings of an impossible creature quite near home. Their home was further down the dirt road from where Thaga and Ooog’s mailbox sat at the end of a long path.
            The moms were rattling on about people talking about wildmen, or mountain apes, or something big and hairy in the neighborhood. They agreed that it was nonsense, and that people will invent something to talk about if they don’t have anything real to discuss. They continued drinking coffee, and making lunch.
            Marge heard all of that, and she knew better. She was up on the lore. At 13, she had seen all the videos, and read some of the books, whatever the local library carried on the subject of forest people. What she hadn’t known until that Tuesday was the local connection.
            “Ah ha!” Marge said to herself and began to sketch out a plan to meet some of these beings, if she could.
            She had heard that gifts of food were often a good introductory gambit. The next order of business would be where to station this gift in hopes of it being noticed by the right creatures, not raccoons or seagulls, hopefully, nor crows.
            As it happened, Marge had ranged the neighborhood pretty thoroughly, and she knew that there was a path from the road, at Thaga’s mailbox, that led past the house and then on into a very large meadow next to an ancient and deep stand of Douglas firs, which she had never entered, for one reason or another. She had gone no further than the meadow.
            Marge thought maybe the far edge of the meadow would be a good place for a first attempted contact. It just felt likely, in a general sort of way.
            So, the next day she purloined an unopened package of Nutter Butters from the kitchen, and told her mother that she would go for a walk for a while. Her mother said to take her phone, and to come back in a couple of hours. This was her regular way of entertaining herself, so it raised no flags with her mom, Enid.
            So, there went Marge, in her overalls, a pair of Carhartts that she loved, with a green sweat shirt underneath. Her long curly brown hair was up in a messy ponytail, and she wore electric blue high top tennies. The effect was just a tad eccentric.
            She traveled up the dirt road from home to the lonely mailbox and entered the path leading into the meadow, skirting Thaga and Ooog’s place carefully. She didn’t know them and didn’t want to intrude. She did stop to admire their vegetable garden for a moment.
            Once clear of their place, she entered the meadow proper. It was like maybe ten acres of tall grass, blackberry vines, a few stumps, some brush, and various left over bits from the old days of logging. Flowers bloomed everywhere. There were Fireweed, berry blossoms, huckleberry bushes in bloom, and flowering things she didn’t know the names of. The place was electric with spring and promise. It was heavy with charm; drowsy sweet breezes stole across the scene.
            Onto this stage Marge arrived with her cookies, looking for a proper gifting spot. It needed to be up off of the ground she thought. These forest people were tall and raccoons and such were short, she knew.
            It also needed to be noticeable. It had to be perfect. She gazed around. Her eye landed on a nice stump with blossoming blackberry vines encircling it. It was old, having been there since the first logging in the area. It was about five feet tall. “Perfect,” Marge said to herself.
            The word “perfect” can be a spell sometimes. It spreads its beneficence in widening rings. Sometimes it works that way.
            She placed the Nutter Butters on the top of the stump. Then she picked an armful of Fireweed flowers and made a sort of ring arrangement around them, to attract attention.
            Then, like all reckless maidens in all the tales of old, she became sleepy. The sun was warm, the breeze was tender. Marge relaxed into the day and fell asleep right beside the gifting stump.         
            Some distance away, deep in the great forest, though the actual distance is a bit indeterminant, Twigg lifted up his head. He thought he had heard something. He cocked his head from side to side, attempting to catch it again.
            He laid aside the supple branchlets that he had been weaving and told Ramona that he thought he might go for a little walk. 
            “I feel like walking for a while, Mama,” he said.
            “Alright, Sweetie,” said Ramona, who was no fool. “Just be sure to come back!”
            As he walked away, her heart swelled for him, and she wept just a tear or two.
            Fate, or fortune, led him right out of the trees and into the meadow. He cast his gaze about looking for anything different or special. He saw it. There was a ring of Fireweed flowers placed on the top of a small stump a bit further on. He went right over there to see if there was more to see. There was.
            The cookies lay in the middle of the ring. “Oh!” said Twigg to himself. He looked around, wondering what to do. He thought they were probably a gift. He had heard that sometimes people would leave gifts for beings such as himself. Surely, they were meant for him.
            Then he noticed Marge sleeping in the grass beside the stump. To Twigg she seemed small and vulnerable. She caused him no fear. He perceived that she had brought the gift, hoping to meet someone like himself and he was touched.
            He carefully lifted the crinkly package, attempting to be silent, and smiling at the sleeping girl, he took his gift home.
            Marge’s phone woke her. It was her mother.
            “Better come home now, Marge,” said Enid. “It’s time to start dinner and for you to do your assignments.”
            “OK, mom. Be there in a couple of minutes,” said Marge.
            When she stood up and checked the stump, she found that the cookies were gone. She smiled a secret smile of pure joy and trooped on home. She determined that next day she would come again with another gift.
            Twigg arrived home still smiling.
            “Look, Mama! Someone left me a gift in the meadow!” he said.
            “I wonder who is was,” said Ramona, but Twigg didn’t mention the sleeping girl.
            “Well, that’s nice, Honey. I’ve never seen those before,” said Ramona.
            After dinner, they all had Nutter Butters for desert. Everyone liked them quite well. They were reminiscent of peanut butter, of course, and all Twigg’s people love peanut butter.
            As he drifted off to sleep in his new, larger, bed, he determined that he would go back to the meadow the next day.
            Thursday, after school, Marge asked  her mother if she could take some fruit for a snack. Enid said, “sure,” so Marge got a plastic grocery sack and into it placed an orange, an apple, and a banana. She put her phone in her pocket and quickly left, taking the same route she had taken the day before.
            The Fireweed flowers were dried up, so this time for a nice presentation she gathered some fern fronds and arranged them nicely. She placed the fruit up there, making a pleasant composition with them. Then she sat down to wait. She made a serious effort to stay awake.
            She didn’t have to wait long.
            At about the same time, Twigg thought it would be a good time to go for a little walk around the area. He told Ramona and Ralph, who was at home, that he would be back in a little while.
            “Take the cats, Twigg,” said Ramona. So he did.
            “Maybe the cats will help him,” Ramona told Ralph after Twigg had left.
            He went straight to the stump. Marge was awake this time.
            It was the sweetest of meetings. Neither feared the other. 
            Marge watched Twigg arrive with a big smile on her face. She looked up at  him full on confidence. Twigg grinned down at her. When she saw Bob and Berry, she was delighted to meet them.
            Twigg sat near her, cross legged on the grass. Even sitting, he was pretty big for a young guy, and he made her feel delicate for the first time ever.
            “These cats are Bob and Berry,” he said. “They are friendly. Don’t worry.”
            Berry and Bob sat there by Twigg smiling their best cat smiles, with their tails wrapped around their feet.
            “My name is Marge,” said Marge. “I brought you some fruit. Thanks for coming again.”
            “My name is Twigg,” said Twigg. “I figured you wanted to actually see me. So I came back.” They both laughed. Then they both got the silly giggles.
            Marge showed him how to peel the banana and the orange. He ate them right there, to please her. He liked the banana best. He’d had apples before, but not the other two.
            They talked about this and that, as young things do, for a couple of hours.
            “Let’s be friends forever and ever, Twigg,” said Marge. She looked serious for a minute, waiting for him to answer.
            “We will,” said Twigg. “I promise you this.” So it was settled.
            Then they both went home to their parents, full of the happiness of newfound friendship.
            Eventually, Twigg told Ramona and Ralph about his friend, Marge. But Marge kept her lip buttoned about Twigg. It was best that way. Nobody would get it at her place.
            And they were friends forever and ever.

🤍

A Feline Symposium On Human Moods

 

 

 

            “I know we laugh at them sometimes, but we do love them, after all,” mused Suzy. She had called Toots and Sammie, and they had been chatting about something that was on Suzy’s mind. Willie was hanging around in the background, as usual.

            “How do you know when your human is sad?” said Toots.

            “Oh, it’s mostly like weather. It’s just there, but there are signs too,” said Suzy.

            “Well, you could try looking at her face, Suzy,” said Willie.

            “Yeah, I know. Also, listen. No laughing. Sitting too still also,” said Suzy.

            “It’s bad when they stare into space. It’s not the same thing as when we stare into space. It means they’re off. Way off!” said Willie.

            “How about when she sits with part of a cup of cold coffee. Just sits and holds it? Brrrr!” said Suzy. “That’s actually a little frightening.”

            “I guess the point has to be then, what do we do about it?” said Toots. “I, personally, believe they need a little stimulus. I find that some grooming of the wrist is helpful! Then a friendly little nip! Not a serious nip! Just the kind you might give a grumpy kitten!”

            “I haven’t thought of that one,” said Suzy. “But it might work here too. Next time I see her get stuck in a blue spot, I think I will try it!”

            “When it’s way crazy early in the morning and she is sitting at her desk, that is a potentially sad time. What I do is get on the arm of her chair and tap her elbow with just a bit of claw in it, until she wakes up enough to pull out that platform thing. Then I get on it, and I grab her wrist and hug it. I make her notice me. I hit her with waves of cat love, the best I know! This usually works well. She laughs at me, and then she starts typing. I know she’s doing her good mornings to her invisible friends. Then I know she’s OK,” said Willie. He looked like he was very serious about this.

            “Yeah, Willie, you are her TrueCat™. I know that, and I don’t take it amiss. I know she loves me too, because she often tells me so,” said Suzy.

            “That’s a high calling, Willie,” said Toots. “I am glad to see that you take it seriously.”

            “Heh. The guy is easy. If he gets all moody lookin’, I just land on his lap like a hairy sack of spuds. Then he pets me and talks to me, and I figure my work is done! Easy! Well, to tell the truth, I do nip him a little. LOL! Maybe nipping guys IS the way to cure em?”

            “I’m a believer in the deep meaningful stare of profound compassion,” said Sammie.

            “Oh, then you’re a practitioner of the higher Woo™ arts!” said Suzy. “Je suis impressionné”

            “Oh, get out, Suzy! You don’t speak French!” howled Willie.

            “You don’t speak English, Willie!” snorted Suzy.

            “If I were there, meat space, I would biff you both a good one,” said Toots. “Do try to stay on topic, thank you both!”

            “Amen,” said Sammie! “I hear that you two are 9 years old and still hissing and snorting at each other! Goodness!”

            “MEW!” said Willie, stifling giggles.

            “Browww?” said Suzy, trying to look innocent and not succeeding.

            “Order please!” intoned Toots, whipping her tail horizontally.

            “Now, let us not forget one of the oldest and most basic of human taming moves. The classic Head Butt. Haha, Willie! No, I am not confused! Be serious please!” said Toots.

            “Head butting is a good one. They often fall right into line, giggling and smiling, if I  head butt them,” agreed Suzy.

            “Don’t forget running through the house like that laser dot can fly and I gotta get it. They cheer up when I do that,” said Willie. “Also, if I roll over and show them my belly, with paws folded! She always mentions how cute that is, even if it is somewhat beneath my dignity as a tom cat. I’ll do it for love though. Clowning always seems to get them.”

            Four cats nodded in unison. It is a basic truism about people and cats.

            “Have we all learned anything?” asked Sammie.

            “I think we traded some ideas. I like that nipping one,” said Suzy, enthusiastically.

            “I thought of one more,” said Willie. “She loves it when we dive right into our food! She does. They hate it when we sniff it and act like we might possibly eat it later, though that is fun.”

            “Yeah, they like that!” said Toots. Everyone else nodded.

            “Very well, then. Since I called this meeting, I will also call it done! This meeting is adjourned! Let us Purr™ for our people, who depend on us, and all other cats! Let us go out and do our jobs as well as we can manage!” announced Suzy.

 

“Meowadieu,” all said together!

🤍

🌸

Beeing There

 

 

            “Przznt!” said Beatrice.
            “Przznt!” said Bernice.
            “Yo!” said Beryl.
            “Ahm Przznt,” said Bobbi too.
            “Alright girls,” said Bianca. “We know why we’re here and what we must do!”
            “What Bernadette wants, Bernadette gets,” said Beryl. “We’ll find him!”
            “By scent and the blue light around him!” said Bianca.

🍃🔵🌿

 
            Twigg was getting to be a big fellow. In human terms you could say pre-teen. He was tall, like his father, of course. Just eyeballing him, you might guess he was over six feet tall. He still looked soft and childish in some ways, and his character was gentle.
            His mother and father didn’t always know exactly where he was these days. But they knew that he was wise and resourceful and would be fine in almost any imaginable situation.
            On this particular day, he was roaming the great forest, revisiting some of those structures he had built from living saplings. Of course this brought him to the edge of the deep forest, out almost into the open where saplings grow.
            His enclosures and little basket type houses and purely imaginary structures were leafing out and looking really good. They had quite the fairytale vibe to them, and he was quite pleased. His parents knew about them and were pleased. Cherry came along to see what he had done sometimes. Even both pumas approved.
            But Twigg wished for a bosom friend who would really get into what he was doing out there with him. He wanted someone to be onboard with him and his building. He sighed as he looked at one really excellent wee house he had made. The extra material woven in between the living uprights, and all the cedar bark that he had harvested the fall before had all grown into a solid, really legit structure. With the leaves all over the outside, it was charming to look at.
            He remembered Linnet and wondered how she was doing. It had been at least three years since he had seen her. Their play dates had ended when her family wandered further north.
            He hummed a song learned from his father. It was called, “Even More Happy.”     
            While he hummed, leaning back against his little basket house, he thought he heard some other humming sounds. He wondered if Cherry had sneaked up on him and was humming to fool him. But his sister was nowhere to be seen.
            He closed his eyes again, listening. Someone was definitely humming or maybe buzzing, maybe several someones.
            “Twigg,” said a tiny husky voice. But he didn’t see anyone except a bee.
            Now, Twigg liked bees and had often played with them when he was younger, letting them walk on his arms and even snuggle up into his hair. They had never stung him. In fact, he didn’t really know they had a sting in their tails.
            He saw four more bees hovering there with the first one.
            “Are you talking to me?” he said. “I didn’t know you could talk!”
            “We can, if we want to and we like a guy,” said Bianca. “We remember you, well actually we’ve heard of you. We don’t live very long, but we know you by word of bee.”
            “I like you bees!” said Twigg. “Why have you come looking for me?”
            “Our majestic prolific Queen, Bernadette summons you, if you will be summoned,” said Bianca. “She has a matter to put before you.”
            “How did you find me?” wondered Twigg. “You are so small, and the forest is so big!”
            “It wasn’t too hard,” said Beryl. “You have a scent, light and pleasant, and a blue light surrounds you. We bees can see such things.”
            “OK. Why does the Queen want to see me?” asked Twigg.
            “We are not allowed to say outside of her presence. Will you come with us and meet with her, Twigg? A prince meeting a queen seems appropriate to us.”
            “Show me the way, bees. I will follow and meet with your Queen Bernadette!” agreed Twigg.
            So, Twigg followed Beatrice, Bernice, Beryl, Bobbi, and Bianca much further than he had ventured before. They walked for a good five miles to the southwest, coming at last to an abandoned farm. Twigg felt shy about this place, but he followed on.
            “Where is your home and your queen,” said Twigg. “I don’t see any bee hives here.”
            “Dear, not all bees live in hives. Sometimes we must make do with what we can find for shelter,” said Beatrice.
            Bianca said, “See that old pickup truck there? That is our home presently. Bernadette is there.”
            As Twigg approached the old green Ford sitting on its rims, he heard a deep persistent buzzing. Many voices hummed together songs of praise for their queen and promises of obedience unto death. There were also tiny voices, perhaps those were the unborn larva, he thought.
            “If you open the door and peer into the cab, she will come to meet you, “ said Bianca.
            Twigg had never opened a car or truck door before, but he figured it out and opened it. What he saw astounded him. The whole inside of the cab was full of freeform honey combs, and bees in their thousands working all around. They were caring for young, tending the combs, and doing all the business bees do when they are at home.
            As he was trying to take all of this activity in, a much larger bee walked out onto the truck’s seat and addressed him.
            “Greetings, Twigg. I’ve heard about you,” she said.
            “Here I am, Queen Bernadette. They said you wanted to see me!”
            They presented quite a scene. The handsome young hairy fellow bent over, facing the queen of the bees from her spot on the truck seat!
            “Here’s the picture, Prince Twigg. We have to move. This farmyard is going to get cleaned out soon. This truck which has been our home will be towed away to some junk yard. We can’t live in a junk yard or endure the move.
            “Now, some of my girls tell me that you have been building some things near the meadow. One of these things is a snug little house, so I have heard!
            “I have a proposal, young sir! If you will allow us to live in your dear little house, and will assist us in moving there, you may take as much of our honey as you like to your mother, leaving some for us to get started with at the new place.”
            Twigg didn’t even need to think about it. “Of course you may live in the tiny house, and I will help you move if you will tell me what to do. I have never tasted honey.”
            “Well then. We have a bargain I think,” said the queen. “But first, put your finger into the comb over my head and then taste what follows your finger out!”
            Hanging from the roof of the cab were several big curtains of honey comb. Twigg poked his forefinger into one, getting it sticky with honey. When he tasted it, he became a believer. He would be very pleased to trade the little basket house for some of this great wealth of honey, and to help the bees move.
            “Twigg, there is a wooden apple box on the inside porch of that old house. If you will fetch it, you may carry a great deal of honey comb away in it!” said Bernadette.
            Twigg crept over to the old farmhouse and pulled open the screen door to the porch. Inside there, as she had said, there was a nice wooden apple box, large and old fashioned.
            He took the box back to the truck and over the course of an hour put as much honey comb as he could into it. When he was done, he said, “what next?”
            “Would you please lift me to your left shoulder? I will ride there. Then you may carry the box on your right shoulder and all of my bees will follow you to the little house in the edge of the meadow,” said Bernadette.
            She had also instructed him on bringing some of the infants in their capsules, so they came along for the ride too. He promised to go back the next day to rescue more of the eggs and pupae.
            Then, strengthened by quite a lot of honey, Twigg carried the apple box and Queen Bernadette back that five miles to the meadow location of their new house. Most of the bees followed along behind them, leaving just a basic staff to care for the young left in the pickup cab until they could be gathered up also.
            When Queen Bernadette saw the wee basket house she was delighted!
            “Prince Twigg, it is even more wonderful than I had dared to hope!” she enthused. “Now, if you will gather some branches and bring them inside, we can use them to build new combs on! You can just set me on the box while you do it.”
            He did gather some nice branches from around the area and brought them into the little house and kind of arranged them in way that might be useful to bees. On them he put some of the honey comb and the sheets of capsules full of young bees also.
            “We can take it from here, Twigg,” said Bernadette. “Honey is not enough of a thanks to you, but it’s what we have! No bee in this forest will ever forget you!”
            While they talked thousands of bees arrived in groups of hundreds and set to work making a home in the basket house.
            “I better go home now,” said Twigg. He picked up the apple box and headed back into the forest, on his way to the Home Clearing. He loved the honey, but he hoped his mother was roasting something or stewing something.
            When Twigg got home after his long day, Ramona noticed right away that he was rather sticky and had a great big box on his shoulder.
            “Hi, Honey,” said Ramona. “Where have you been all day? Something fun?”
            So, Twigg told Ramona the whole long sticky story. She loved it and was tickled to get all that nice honey. She began planning dishes in her mind while Twigg was still talking.
            “Why don’t you go jump in the river for a minute, Twigg. When you get back you can dry off by the fire and dinner will be ready by then.”
            At dinner, Twigg told Ralph, Cherry and the cats the whole story too. They all had honey for desert and all got rather sticky. That required a late night visit to the river, but it was worth it!

🐝💛🐝

PS, I'm just a cat. I know nothing about caring for bees!!

Saturday Greetings And Open Thread

 Wishing you a lovely and fruitful Saturday, this 26th day of April, 2025!

A True Tale of Cat Bravery

 Methyl Ethyl Ketone, Herself

            Here we see the girl resting after receiving stitches. She had a very near escape.

        It was early October, 2006. At that time I allowed her to play outside. It had always been safe enough and she knew her way around.

            I was probably sitting right here in this very chair when I noticed some strange thumping sounds outside the back door on the porch. This continued for a moment or two until I figured I had better go investigate.

            What I discovered was that two local Pit Bulls had Ethyl cornered on our very own back porch! And she had been bitten. It appeared that at least one of the bulls had taken her fully into his mouth and sunk his teeth in!

            The dogs were chased off. The funny thing was that the dogs seemed to feel they had done nothing wrong. They were perfectly friendly towards us, the buggers! The owners were given the opportunity to pay her vet bill, but never did.

            End result was survival and stitches, and she lived for several more years.

            She was a very brave girl. She didn't fuss about her stitches or anything. Completely chill!

What a girl!

🌸

            

Suzy Q Posits A Theory

 

            Hello. I think this must be a PSA. It’s about cells.
            Did you ever wonder why we cats do what we do? Yes, you probably do and did! It does have bearing on cells. Well, I just found out yesterday about cell polarization. Now, before you go to sleep, hear me out for about two minutes!
            I think we cats have this licked!
            I overheard an interview of a Dr. Miller that YKW was listening to. He was talking about using DMSO for various health reasons. How it works, it turns out, is by correcting the cell’s polarization so that they work right. They heal themselves because they are lined up right and can talk to each other, send messages on, and move stuff around like cells are supposed to.
            Now, cats are made of cells. So, naturally, I was interested.
            I got to thinking about how cells get disorganized. This is where my theorizing comes in. I strongly suspect that there are life style behaviors that do this bad thing to cells. There are some things that even cats can’t control also.

    Such as:
    Icky food
    Weird drinks, i.e. not water! (for cats anyhow)
    Not enough sleep!
    Illnesses and injuries
    Sorrow and anxiety
    A dirty litter box!
    Too much time sitting, in the dark!
    Not moving through space!
    Selfishness
    Bad medicines
 
            The rest of my theory is that there are things that can be done to get cells communicating right again. I think this works for people too. Probably anyhow.
Some of these are: ( remember this is just my, Suzy’s, theory!)

    Playing outside barefoot
    Staying in the sunlight for a while per day
    Plain old food, don’t get carried away
    Clean water
    Lots of naps, everything is under control!
    Sleep at night too!
    DMSO! Who knew? God, probably, and a few old doctors.
    A list of supplements cats don’t know anything about.
    A clean litter box! I think germs like dirty stuff.
    Lots of running around, when not sleeping!
    Heart full of love! (love fills up gaps and removes barriers.)

For humans I should probably include some kind of useful work, such as caring for cats.

 
            I think you can see how cats have this figured out. We do pretty well in the sleep department. We stay in the sunshine. If it’s safe we play outside. We drink water. We hunt for ourselves if possible. We, most of us, are not worriers. We take life as it comes. We are full of affection! We enjoy ourselves, as God intended when he designed us. He did a great job by the way!
            That’s my theory! I hope you enjoy it too! But remember, I’m a cat, not a biologist or even a chemist!
            There!!
            Love, Suzy Q
            (as dictated to YKW)

🤍

Meowadieu™

Wednesday Should Be Cat's Day!

 

            “I’m going to call a PowerPurr™,” Suzy told Willie one day, from her special perch on the back of the recliner.
            “Why, did you lose your marble?” snickered Willie. He was lounging on the sewing machine desk. From there he could keep an eye on the bird feeder, even though it was getting quite dark outside. The flash of grey wings distracted him momentarily.
            “I know where it is, which does me no good,” said Suzy. “It rolled under the fridge.”
            “Bad luck, Suze. Now the mice will have their way with it!” said he.
            “No, Willie, this is something I have been thinking about. I want to talk to Toots and Sammie about it, and Buddy if he will come,” said Suzy.
            “What is it this time?” Willie drawled.
            “We cats aren’t getting the respect we deserve! Something needs to be done, and I think I know what,” said Suzy. “They say they love us, but is that enough? I wonder! Think about this! She won’t let me examine her yarn!”
            “I can’t figure that one out. You can’t eat it. What good is it?” inquired her brother.
            “I don’t know. It’s just hypnotically compelling to see those colored strings twitch and leap up to her needles….” Suzy looked dreamy for a moment. Then she snapped out of it.
            “We deserve our own special day of the week, as a sign of respect. I’m calling Toots right now! You can come too, if you can tear yourself away from the bird feeder, Willie!”
            “I might listen, just to make sure you don’t put me in the bight somehow!” said Willie.

            Suzy squeezed her eyes shut, to concentrate. Then she realized she couldn’t see anybody up here on the recliner, so she made her way to the shiny glass of the sliding door. She looked deeply into the dark behind the shine.
            “Toots! Are you there? Is Sammie around? Can we talk?” she called silently. It was quiet for a minute or so.
            “Yeah, we’re here. What’s up Suzy?” said Toots from her favorite window.
            “I’m calling Buddy, and Charley, and that big fluff head, Mr. Baby Sir too!” said Suzy.
            “Yo!” said Buddy. He was kinda bored. So, this was just what the, um, vet ordered.
            “What? Who is this? What do you want?” said Charley.
            “Hey, babies! Who loves ya?” said Mr. Baby. “Who’s calling anyhow?”
            “This is Suzy, and that lump Willie is eavesdropping. I am calling this meeting for an important reason! I’m sure you will have to agree,” Suzy said to the shiny dark glass window.
            “I can’t wait,” said Charley.
            “I’m game,” said Buddy.
            “Lay it on me, Suzy. Your word is my command. That’s a joke by the way,” said Mr. Baby. He always laughed at his own jokes.
            “This is the deal,” said Suzy. “We aren’t getting the adulation and respect we deserve as lions. Admittedly small lions. No matter. We need to change this!” Her voice trembled!
            “OK, OK,” said Buddy. “Take it easy, Suzy. What’s the plan?”
            “I say we declare Wednesday to be Cat’s Day!” announced Suzy. “On Wednesdays we get to do anything we want, and they have to respect us! What good is love without respect? I ask you all! Just love is pretty weak sauce!”
            “Oy vey!” said Charley. Nobody knew she was Jewish, but it made sense in a way. Her rather acerbic attitude was well known.
            “You know about Caturday, right?” said Charley.
            “I think that’s a joke on the internet,” said Suzy. “This is serious!”
            “How do you suggest that we inform our people that Wednesdays are now special days for cats?” said Toots, sensibly. Sammie nodded into the glass.
            “We go on strike on Wednesdays until they notice us and start doing things right!” said Suzy. “No more nice kitty! No more sweety pie snuggles and belly ups! We demand our rights! We yowl! We hiss! We might even bite!” Suzy stood before the glass with fire in her eyes!
            “Oh, that always works real good,” said Mr. Baby Sir, who knew a thing or two. “Why don’t you bag that plan? Believe me, it won’t work!”
            “Suzy,” said Toots, “What’s the problem, really? Usually you are such a nice girl. A little excitable, but nice. What has radicalized you like this?”
            “I don’t like that dumb Sheba cat food,” said Suzy. “It stinks! Dogs like it! Ew!”
            “Suzy! Earth calling,” said Willie. “She bought two flats of that chicken stuff you like. I don’t think you have a case. Also, I like love. Love is warm and round and smells good. Respect without love has corners and hidden dangers. You don’t like danger, do you, Suzy?”
            “No,” Suzy admitted. She sat back down, looking a little stunned at herself.
            “Great meeting!” said Mr. Baby, giggling. “Did we get anywhere?”
            “It would have been a circle, but it didn’t roll,” said Charley.
            “Oh, don’t give her a hard time,” said Sammie. “We don’t like those Sheba things much either. I think they make them to smell good to people so they will buy them!”
            “Our lady had a hard time opening them too,” said Willie. “But I don’t think she will buy any more of them. We made our feelings known quite adequately.”
            “What shall we do now, Suzy,” inquired Toots kindly.
            “Let’s just call it a night. I’m tired,” said Suzy. “I guess I really don’t have much of a problem after all.”
            “Very well,” said Toots. “This meeting is adjourned. And, if you think about it, it seems to me that every day is Cat’s Day for us. We must Purr™ for those who are not so fortunate. Let us bow our heads now in our own places and be thankful!”
            And so they did, each in his or her own place. Each realized that love, with a little respect worked in, was best.

🤍

Adieu, and Meow!