What Maurice Wrote in the Red Book

 First Day ✹

I am MAURICE, A true Howler.

 Sneaky said I should write in this book. See we found it on a bench in Montana.

 It was at a  train station in the morning.

Sneaky showed me how to write too.

We don’t know who put the red book on that bench. Maybe it was an angel?

I don’t know why he did it, if he did.

Sue was trying to cheer me up.

Maybe that’s why.

I don’t understand all the stuff that has happened to me and Joe and Sneaky.

It’s like a story!

I don’t know what allegory means. Maybe I am supposed to find out?

Sneaky is my best friend. She looks out for me and helps me.

I’m very sorry for all the things that happened with the bands.

I could say I never knew any better, but that is an excuse.

She explained what an excuse is.

I love RALPH!

It would be lame not to love Ralph.

But it was Sneaky who licked my wounds in the train car way back when all of this started, before I ever had a friend.

People used to hide from me.

Peaced Out

 

A reformed character, Charley

And for good measure, Mr. Baby, in the dryer.

 

            Willie and Suzy kind of held their breath, waiting. They had gotten the news a few days before. The elegant and insouciant Mr. Baby Sir was coming for a several day visit. He would be conveyed, naturally, by his lady, Bubble Woman. But someone else was also accompanying them. Yes. Charley, the angriest little kitty anyone could think of!

            You will remember how Charley carried on at the house. How could anyone forget? The growling, and the hissing, and even striking out good and hard at any hand reaching out to her. Poor cat manners for sure.
            Our two cats had discussed among themselves what could be the matter. They had even brought the question up to Toots and Sammie. Buddy had said that life is hard, maybe she has her reasons? Had anyone asked her?
            That seemed like a rational idea.
            They watched her and Mr. Baby arrive through the sliding glass door. He was walking on his leash, and she was carried in arms.
            When everything settled down, Suzy spoke up. “Hey, Charley. How’s every little thing?”
            “Oh, hi Suzy. OK, I guess,” admitted Charley, a bit reluctantly, in view of her past opinion on the subject of being here.
            “So, Charley. What was the big beef? I mean last time we saw you,” said Willie.
            “Good grief, Willie! That’s hitting her right out of the box,” said Suzy. “Can you give her a minute?”
            “No, Suzy. He’s right. I was awful,” said Charley. “Being here, I remember suddenly. I don’t really understand why. I was perfectly happy anywhere else, you know?”
            “That’s what your lady said, so we couldn’t figure out why you were so angry here,” said Willie. “Do you have any idea?”
            “We Purred for you. Maybe that is why you feel better now,” said Suzy. “What we Purred for was peace. That you would be filled with peace. Do you feel more peaceful?”
            “No, I don’t know why I was so angry. It doesn’t even make sense to me now. Being angry was like being bitten by a league of fleas that I couldn’t scratch, and that made me even madder! But it’s gone. I promise not to hit, or hiss, or growl! Not unless I have a really good reason to, like if that darn big pup, Tom, comes in here!” said Charley.
            “Oh, we just hide. No problem. No need to defend!” said Willie.
            “Hm. I can do that too,” said Charley. “I’ll just hide until he goes away.”
            “That’s the house lion’s way,” said Suzy. “Hide until it’s all over!”
            “Got it!” said Charley.

🤍

By the way, it is true! Charley was being just fine yesterday. Purring works!

Who Will Lead Us

 

                       (“He has no breath,” said Lope, with finality. Her grief, displayed before her children, was profound, and terrifying to them.
            He lay still, he who had never lain still since his wriggling birth. Indeed, he neither took air, nor gave it back. He lay perfect and still. Grey he was. His massive chest so quiet.
            The wind blew long and low and black. Hard rain spattered the family.
            The young gathered around him with hollow hearts. Tails low, they trembled before him, two now fatherless.
            “Woe! Oh woe! Oh!” sang Gnaw, he who was least, and weakest. Lope looked upon her least son with empty eyes. No. Not that one. A fine singer. No more.
            Paw and Tail, the fatherless, raised their small voices. “Yiiyiiiooooo!” Again, and yet again. A thin strand of sound flying away in the wind. Who shall hear them? The keening?
            “Who will breathe for us?” called Lope, at last, in agony of heart. “Who shall walk among us and before us?” She called into the low clouds, to the sky, to Maker, to all who hear such things.
             One who hears and sees a lot, and to be honest, talks a lot, did hear their songs on the black wind. And though she would normally have flown on mighty wingbeats up to her high nest in the rocks at a time like this, she felt pity.
 
            As they stood around him, a great Raven, fighting against the storm, feathers ruffled, came to them. She saw that he lay motionless on the deep wet grass near the tree line. She saw Lope, the mother, standing bleakly with her children.
 
            “I see that your lord is no more, Mother. What is your name?” said Maeve. She spoke softly as a mother herself, who had lost someone also.
            “He called me Lope when we were joined in life. I called him Love, oh great dire bird,” whispered Lope. “Have you a name, Bird,” asked Lope.
            “I am Maeve. No bringer of evil. I am a sort of messenger,” said Maeve, as kindly as a creature with a croaky sort of voice could manage.
            “I will tell you about he whose messenger I am. Perhaps you have heard of him who rules here?” said Maeve.
            “I know that there is such a one, but we have stayed far from the towns and the people, away up north. No,” said Lope. “We don’t know him.”
            “I think the best thing for all concerned, is for me to bring you to him, and he will know what to do,” said Maeve.
            “Do we dare to come before him at a time like this and as weak as we are?” said Lope.
            “Yes, you do dare, for he is wise and good, Lope. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew of your plight. He has ways of knowing,” said Maeve. “He listens to the wind you know?”
            “Very well, Maeve, we shall come before him, as you say,” said Lope.
            “I will lead the way, flying low. You must follow closely, all of you. His home is a little hard to find unless I bring you,” said Maeve.
            So follow her they did, wherever Maeve led. Through the wind, the rain, the darkness, they watched carefully and followed her until at last they came to the Home Clearing. The great Raven, with the four wolves following close behind.
            The fire had burned down to a bed of glowing coals but was still warm. Ramona and the children and the cats were tucked into bed in the cave behind that subtle green door.
            But Ralph himself sat near the fire, as if waiting. The wind didn’t blow so hard here, and the rain mostly stayed away. At last he saw Maeve and the family approaching.
            He saw her fly in low and slow followed by the mother with her children, a grown son, and two small ones. He remained sitting, so as to not loom over them in the night.
            “I’m sure glad I didn’t have to wake everybody to get to talk to you, Boss,” announced Maeve. “Look who I found standing at the tree line around their fallen lord!”
            Ralph did look.
            At last he said, “I heard something in the wind. It woke me and now I see the cause.
            “What is your name, lady, and the names of your children?”
            So, she gave him their names and since Ralph has this way of comforting creatures, they all sat close to the fire, near his feet, looking up to him.
            “I think I know what to do. If you agree, lady Lope,” he said. “Do you want to hear it?”
            “Maeve said when she first saw us that you would know what to do. So, yes, I want to hear it, sir. But, first, what is your name?” said Lope, for Maeve hadn’t said his name yet.
            “They call me Ralph. It’s a bit of a long story, for another time. The name my mother gave me is a little hard to remember and even harder to say,” said Ralph.
            “Very well, we shall call you Ralph,” said Lope, feeling better and better as the conversation went on. Gnaw and the cubs, Paw and Tail, gathered near, feeling better also.
            By now, Maeve was perched on his shoulder where she could hear the whole thing. She was very good at remembering his decrees and decisions for later reference.
            “This is what I think we should do, Lope. I think it would be right for you to make your home with us here. I always wanted a family of wolves here and I know my family and even the pumas will be happy too. It’ll be great! You’ll see! We’ll all have so much fun! I can’t wait! So, how about it?” Ralph said happily and then waited for her answer.
            Lope looked at each of her children. She saw only gladness there. So she turned to Ralph, and said, “yes, you’re right. That’s the very best thing we could do. We will stay here with you and your family. Yes. Our thanks, sir!”
            “This is great,” he said. “Can you sleep near the fire for the night? We’ll figure something better out tomorrow and you’ll meet Ramona and Twigg and Cherry, and the cats! I can’t wait to go tell Ramona!”
            Lope said "of course", that they had slept much rougher than by a nice fire before.
            Ralph put some more wood on the fire, and since it was too late for Maeve to fly to her nest in the dark and the wind, he took her into the cave with himself.
            When he climbed in under the big quilt, he woke Ramona enough to say, “boy have I got a surprise for you in the morning! Wolves! Four of 'em!”
            “OK, Baby,” said Ramona, drifting off to sleep again. “I’m sure it will be fine….”)

Happy Wednesday & Open Thread Day

 Goobywobber.

            A newly minted term for a species of small feline mammal. I believe it makes reference to their predilection for complaining, about starvation mostly. There is also some emphasis on getting inside a person’s personal space.

So? It was all a dream then?

 

           

            “Willie! Do you remember when I was talking to a new cat, the other day? She said her name was Sleeky Sue? And, and she and a wolfdog guy and a folk singer were running an ice cream shop in Missouri? Do you remember?” said Suzy.
            “I don’t remember you saying anything about any of that, Suzy!” Willie looked baffled.   
            “Well, I remember it all distinctly. I also remember telling you about it!” said she. “And, then when I told you the best thing about Sleeky Sue, that she was free, you told me all about how that’s why you want to bust out of here!”
            “I do want to bust out of here, Suzy. But the rest of it is nuts!!”
            “But, Willie! If you don’t remember... what does it mean?” said Suzy, with ears, whiskers and tail on full alert.
            “It means, most likely, that you were asleep, sister dear. As they say in all the books, to get themselves out of a tight situation, it was all a dream!” said Willie.’
            “Oh,” said Suzy, recalculating. “But, it was a really good story, wasn’t it?”
            “Almost believable,” said Willie. “But sure! It was a heck of a yarn. You should work up some more dreams!”
            “It seemed so real,” said Suzy. Then she gazed out of the glass door, deep in thought. She was thinking about Purring up Toots...

A King is the King of Everything

 

            Sometimes when visitors come to the great forest they hear a sound. It’s unfamiliar to them but pleasant. It’s deep, almost out of the range of human hearing. Sometimes they think it is the wind playing among the rocks and pinnacles of the mountains themselves. Some even think it might be a sort of ringing deep in the bones of the mountains. A natural process surely.
            “Mommy,” a small girl or boy will say, “what is that noise? It makes my ears buzz a little.”
            And then, perhaps, Mommy will say, “I think it might be the wind vibrating fir branches, Honey.”
            The wind, which is said to be prideful, is perfectly happy to be blamed for the intriguing deep sound.
            When the sound ends, and all the expected noises in a forest resume, most of them let the strange deep resonance sink deeply into their memories. The picnics commence. Photos are taken. There is so much to admire, so much to just absorb.
            Then, paradoxically, rested and tired, the happy visitors hop in their vehicles and leave the forest right before sunset. The peace of the forest will stay with them for days, maybe weeks.
           
            There was a day when Ralph was sitting with his children, telling them stories, no doubt. That was his way of getting them up to speed with who they are. On that day, Cherry, who was getting to be a rather big girl of maybe five years, spoke to her father.
            “Da’, a tree is dying.”
            “Oh? How do you know, Cherry?” asked Ralph. “That is a serious matter.”
            “I looked at the ends of the branches, Da’. There are no new buds, like all the other trees have. I went up there, and I looked,” Cherry said, earnestly. “Also, I couldn’t hear it.”
            As he looked at the little blond creature leaning on his knee, Ralph knew that she had been up in the branches of some fir tree. She hadn’t forgotten how to do that, but he and Ramona had asked Cherry to please stay on the ground most of the time, at least when she was alone at play.
            “You couldn’t hear the tree doing its song?” said Ralph.
            “It didn’t sound like anything!” said Cherry. “It’s dying!” She wept a few little tears gazing up into his face. Ralph realized that this was a serious matter that required his immediate attention.
            “Mona,” he said, “Cherry and I must go see about a tree. We will be back before night comes!” Ramona nodded as if to say, “of course.”
            “Take me to this tree, Cherry,” said Ralph, standing up, preparing for a walk.
            “Yes, Da’. It’s way past your big log!” answered his child.
            With that, they set off together. Ralph walking, and Cherry more or less floating by his right elbow. They walked and floated past his famous log/office, where a lot of serious king business was conducted, and then deeper into the forest.
            Great trunks gathered round. Dark, greenish, nearly black bark watched them as they went. You could say they sighed for the trees know their earthly king when he passes. Their arboreal souls were lifted up. It’s a mystery!
            At last they came to a place where the path became very indistinct. A deep grove of ancient Douglas Firs stood there as if in waiting.
            “This one, Da’,” Cherry said, drifting over to one particular trunk, old and massive.
            Now, it is true that each tree had a light whispery song, if a person had ears to hear it.
            Ralph came near this one and laid his head against the trunk, and reached his arms around it in a mighty embrace. He listened for a long few moments. He nodded to Cherry waiting beside himself.
            “This one is tired, Cherry. Just very tired,” said Ralph at last. “Not dying.”
            “Did she tell you why she is so tired?” said Cherry. She looked like a little blossom floating there in the dim light, waiting on his words.
            “A forest spirit wept here, Cherry,” said Ralph. “She laid her head here,” he said, indicating a spot low on the great dark trunk. “She came here deep in sorrow, and as she lay here she drew strength from the tree. She lay here until her heart was light again and went her way.”
            “Oh,” said Cherry.
            “Help me, Cherry. I will sing to her, and we shall see what we shall see! Come and put your two hands on her trunk, here and here.”
            So, Cherry put her two hands, here and here, and closed her eyes to listen.
            Ralph sang that deep song. The same song the forest visitors hear sometimes and don’t understand. He sang for a long time, until the day changed and began to darken a little. He sang until the tired tree heard his singing and was healed.
            “That’s enough, Cherry. We should go home now,” said Ralph. “Your dear mother will be looking for us.”
            “We will visit this tree again. You’ll see. She will be fine and making good little buds too,” said Ralph, as they walked, and floated, back down the way to the Home Clearing.
            Soon, they could see the fire glowing way down the path. Twigg and the puma brothers were there, and Ramona stood there watching Ralph and Cherry return. As they got closer they could see her smile.
            She had made potato and mushroom soup with a lot of Thaga’s onions and a lot of Thaga’s good butter also. No one knows where Thaga gets butter, but she does!

💛