A Cautionary Tale With Butter

 

 

            Berry and Bob, the puma bros. dawdled on the way home. It’s not like they weren’t free to do as they wished. In fact, they could have left home entirely, should they have wished to, and no one would have thought badly of them. Sometimes they even stayed out all night.
            But, this time, they were just fooling around, headed roughly in the right direction. They had each captured a bird. Bob found a turkey; Berry got a pheasant. They were feeling pretty feline. Ralph had taken the birds and split for the Home Clearing at an effective rate of speed.
            To tell the truth, both of them were snooping. Only their tails showed over the tall grass and low vines they were pacing through. It was past midday. Honestly it was warm and muggy. Sleepy weather, for cats.
            Their path homeward passed by the river. It gurgled and swooshed suggestively, but neither one swam if they had no reason to. It was slow going walking over and around those big granite rocks. Some of them were of a manageable size. So, Bob rolled some over. But there was nothing alive under them. That paled quickly. They went on.
            Berry saw something in the corner of his eye. He shook his head. He didn’t believe it. In any case, it vanished around a huge rock. Catlike, he went to look behind the rock. Nothing. It was confusing. Bob saw him and followed.
            “What are you doing,” said Bob.
            “Something red ran around this rock,” said Berry, standing still and checking out his surroundings.
            “Be careful you don’t fall into a rock,” laughed Bob.
            “Not likely,” said Berry. “Unlike some, cats are too cautious to be caught that way!”
            “But curiosity is a species wide weakness, Bro,” said Bob.
            The path led up from the riverbank to the tree line. It was a bit of a climb even for pumas. First Berry and then Bob reached the top. There was shade so they sat down to rest for a few minutes.
            Somebody was singing in a high little voice. Not human, nor anything else familiar. Berry was sleeping, but Bob was listening. It had a calling to it, but the words made no sense to him. If it had been in Welsh, or Gaelic, or Scottish it would have made no difference to Bob.
            Something small and unearthly quick ran down the path in the dim light under the trees. It seemed at least partially red. Bob, who had warned Berry about curiosity, got up to investigate. He padded silently down the path in the direction taken by the small red thing. He still heard the high whispery song.
            He saw what appeared to be a sort of murmuration of fireflies. This was very odd because fireflies do not exist in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Having never seen such a thing, Bob was intrigued. The lights moved on, he followed.
            At last he followed the tiny lights to a place where two trees crossed, creating a type of shelter. There was a sort of berm of earth piled up behind it. The fireflies flew in under the trees, and someone stepped out.
            He was about the size of a Chatty Cathy doll, but the resemblance ended there. His skin was crepey brown, covered in fine wrinkles. His tiny bright eyes were a hypnotic pale blue. He had a grey braid hanging down the back of his head, down to his knees. He wore brown leather pants to his knees and his feet were too big for his body and bare. In addition, on this hot summer day, he wore a red, green, and yellow with black, plaid coat cut in the style of long ago and far away.
            Bob goggled in amazement.
            “I have lots and lots of finest butter down in my house underground, my fine fellow,” said the Plaidie with a sly grin. “If you follow me and my bees down to the kitchen you may have as much butter as you may wish for!”
            “I like butter very much,” said Bob, considering the offer.
            “Come down, then,” said the Plaidie and he resumed singing the strange song.
            Bob’s mind was full of pictures of butter, put there, no doubt, by the song.
            So, Bob did follow the Plaidie down into the hole behind the crossed trees, down into the earth. The burrow was fine at first, but it narrowed soon. Bob had a tough time pushing through, but alas, his mind was full of butter. He saw a light further on and figured it must be the aforementioned kitchen. He could hardly move now, the burrow was so tight.
            Two more Plaidies sprang out of the lighted area with balls of strong line, and they all three trussed Bob up good. He was tied, bundled, fore and aft, like a great spider had rolled him up in her web.
            Bob came to his senses then.
            “Why have you done this thing to me, who never did you any harm,” cried Bob.
            “I aim to retrieve the golden portal from that great lummox who possesses it,” gloated the first Plaidie. “We will bargain with him, for he will surely trade to save you!” it garbled horribly.

            At this point Berry awoke and found himself alone. He didn’t like this at all!
            Berry followed Bob’s scent trail to the crossed trees and the hole dug into the berm of earth. He thought about going into the burrow but then thought better of it. He could hear talking down in the hole and some of it was Bob doing the talking.
            Berry, the more verbal of the two, had been around Ralph since kittenhood and he had learned a thing or two. Bob should have done likewise.
            Berry decided on a song called, “Run it Backward.” He’d never used it before, but he knew the words and it seemed like it should work.
            A puma singing is an awesome sound. There was a lot of high snarling and growling with some purring, and huffing.
            It worked just fine. There was a lot of high pitched shrieking down in the hole. Three Plaidies came up out of there running backwards and disappeared into the forest to wherever Plaidies go when they are not causing trouble.
            After a short time, Bob turned himself around, wriggled out of the lines that had bound him and crawled back out of the Plaidie’s hole.
            “Thanks,” said Bob. “Can we not talk about this at home?”
            “It was curiosity, wasn’t it,” said Berry.
            “That and butter,” said Bob, regretfully.
            “I bet Ramona would give you some if you just asked her,” said Berry. “And yeah, I’m not telling.”
            “Makes sense,” said Bob, cheering up a bit.
            “I like butter too,” said Berry as they walked home, just in time for dinner.

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