Catfurday Greetings From Charley in Arizona

 🤍

           

             Charley sends her best wishes to all the cats, and their people too. 
            "Things are going well," she says, "especially since it has cooled down into the 70s. Madam and I go strolling quite often!"

            "There was some stormy weather, as you can see from this shot of Tucson at sunset," she adds.

            "These are everywhere! I keep my distance. No plant should look that hostile!" 

            "Now, while I have your attention, cat cohabiters, Catfurday is the day to make sure that your cats are thoroughly brushed. Just a friendly reminder!
            "I guess that's all for today. See you at the next Purring™!"

⭐

Whose Birthday Party Is This Anyhow?

 

On location!

            As was always the case when Ralph came to the ranger station to talk to Ranger Rick Swanson, he stuck his head in the door, stooping a bit and called out to warn the guy.
            “You in there, Rick? There’s a bunch of us. We need to talk to you. Got time?” said Ralph.
            “Uh, yeah,” said Rick from behind his desk. His laptop had been opened, but he shut it and looked up. “Come in!”
            First Ralph, with Maeve still on his shoulder, then Marge, and last of all Twigg entered the office. Rick waited behind his desk.
            “If you go get that other chair in the backroom everybody can sit down. I assume this will take a minute or two,” said the ranger, as Ralph pulled his oversized chair over in front of the desk, after seating Marge in the regular type chair. Although Twigg hadn’t been in Rick’s office before, he fetched the third chair and sat on it on the other side of Marge.
            Marge wriggled out of her backpack, putting it on the floor between her feet. She took off the rain hat and set it on her pack. She looked all around the office, taking note of everything.
            “Rick, this young woman is our very good friend, Marge. We’ve known her for a couple of years. Ramona vouches for her as do I and Twigg too. Twigg and Marge met in the meadow when they were kids and became friends. Maeve, here, also sees Marge in a favorable light, doncha, Birdie?” said Ralph by way of introductions.
            Maeve made some encouraging raven knocks, but kept her beak shut.
            “It’s Marge who needs to speak with you, we’re just here to help her along if we can,” Ralph continued.
            “OK. So, Marge, hi. They call me Ranger Rick around here. It’s a little bit of a joke, for obvious reasons. Good to meet you. How can I help?” said Rick, cheerfully. His day had been pretty boring so far and this was certainly diverting.
            Rick thought Marge looked like a sensible young thing. He observed her Carhartts with approval. He liked her demeanor  and expression. She seemed, to him, to be direct and at ease in unfamiliar surroundings.
            “Hi, Ranger Rick! I guess that only makes sense, doesn’t it?” said Marge.
            “It’s a little bit of a story, Sir. I am an art major at the community college. I’ve been doing that for nearly two years.
            “Recently it has seemed to me that living in town and doing college courses just isn’t me anymore. I’m only myself in the forest, if that makes any sense. I don’t want to waste anymore time doing something I don’t want to do, you know?”
            “I do know,” said Rick. “I had a similar realization several years ago. But, I was working on a biology degree which was a good enough fit, that I was able to apply to train as a Forest Service ranger.”
            “The reason I’m here is that I was reading up on working for the Forest Service, and it seemed to me that I would like to be a volunteer camp host, possibly. That’s plan A. I don’t really have a plan B. Anyhow, the website advised people who are interested to first talk with a Forest Service  ranger. So, here I am. That’s why I, or we, actually, are here,” said Marge, finally.
            “We don’t really have a camp host right now,” said Rick. “He packed up and went back to Wisconsin suddenly. My trainee has been doing that job in addition to whatever else he is supposed to be doing. I think Dexter would be thrilled if we had a camp host up there in the camping area!”
            Ralph got that look on his face he gets when things are going well, as if, “yes!” things should be going well. Twigg visibly relaxed. Maeve gronked a bit under her breath, but said nothing.
            “When are you available?” said Rick. “You know you still have to apply. I can’t make that go away, but I can sure send in my recommendation.”
            “I’m available right this minute,” said Marge. “Thank you! I’ll try to wait calmly, but wow!”
            Right on cue, Dexter the trainee popped through the office door. He froze for an instant, and then smiled at everyone.
            “Whose birthday is it?” said Dexter.
            “Yours, maybe!” said Ranger Rick.
            “Cool! I never knew! No, really, what’s up?” said Dexter.
            “Well, we just might have ourselves a new camp host,” said Rick. “If the stars line up right. You’re looking at her right now! Marge this is Dexter. Dexter this is Marge, who wants in the worst way to live in the forest. Sensible, don’t you think?”
            “I sure do! I’m here, during the day anyhow! We need a camp host in the worst way, Marge, hello by the way,” said Dexter, who was just about hopping up and down. If anything, he was more excited than Marge.
            “It’s a real shame we don’t have a happy forest cake, coffee will  have to do for now,” said Rick. “But in the meantime, Dexter, why don’t you take Marge up to the campground, Twigg can go too, we don’t have anybody up there today. Show her the little mobile that comes with the job, take the keys so you can get into it. Tell her what a camp host’s duties are and all like that.”
            After the young people took off to explore the campground and the one bedroom mobile home that came with the job, Ralph and Rick had a quiet moment.
            “Thanks, Rick. I feel really good about this,” said Ralph. “And I won’t worry about her with you and Dexter in the area.”
            “I do too. I think it’ll all work out fine,” said Rick. “I’ll go start some coffee and pull out some Oreos. I forgot I had cookies. They’re likely to be out there for a while. We may as well have coffee.”
            And so they did!

🎂

Purrsday Report For November 20, 2025

 

🙀🧡😸

 
            It had been a while, so our agents felt that it was time to get together to compare notes. It was evening, which, of course, comes stupidly early late in November. Suzy had the sliding glass door to gaze into, and Toots had her shiny window in the shop.
 
            Agent Suzy wrapped her tail tightly around herself in loaf position, looked anxiously behind her back, and whispered, “Anything new to report, Agent Toots?”
            “Why are you whispering, Agent Suzy?” said Agent Toots.
            “I don’t want either my brother or Mr. Fluffbag to hear me. Do you have a report?” said Suzy.
            “It’s been quiet. Too quiet! That can only mean one thing, Agent Suzy. They can’t fool me. They’re being quiet. Do you understand!!” said Agent Toots, with conviction.
            “Then there’s no way to tell! Anything is possible!” said Agent Suzy. “That curls my whiskers!”
            “Under cover of November darkness, Hairy Men shamble down the highway calling out in the voices of owls, dogs, wild cats, cars, people talking! It’s impossible to tell. But, all I saw was some raccoons looking for trouble, and if I was outside, Agent Suzy, I tell you they would have found it! I’m not afraid of those fat things,” said Agent Toots. “I would come at them!”
            “That’s kind of an open ended report. Shall we say raccoons for sure then?” said Agent Suzy. “I don’t think the Hairy Men shamble. They have special hips and knees. They move kind of like a train car.”
            “There’s an idea that bears looking into,” said Agent Toots. “Do you have anything to report? Anything scary going on up there in the land of mountains and deep dark forests?”
            “Nothing besides the usual. Oh! In the house here? Well, there have been outrages. Mr. Baby, the Fluffbag, is still here. That’s bad enough, but they’ve been talking about taking him outside on a leash like a dog! I would laugh because no cat should be on a leash. But still, I wouldn’t bite or scratch if they took me outside on a leash. Beggers can’t be choosers, Agent Toots,” said Agent Suzy.
            “Shall we drop the agents bit, Suzy? Neither one of us has anything to report, said Toots, quietly.
            “I guess so, Toots. In fact, the scariest thing that happened yesterday is that she made more sauerkraut,” admitted Suzy.
            “That’s appalling though,” said Toots. “Whoever heard of eating spritzig cabbage, but they do it!”
            “Hard to believe, bye for now, Sweetie,” said Suzy, who was getting sleepy.
            “Talk to you soon, Suze,” said Toots.
            So everything was actually peaceful on Kittycomm!™ And, that’s a good thing!

🧡

An Audience With The King

 

            Sitting there between Ramona and Twigg, Marge gathered her thoughts before speaking. She knew that Ralph wasn’t rushing her into it, so she sat quietly. The fire was warm on her shins, the flames flickered pleasantly. She was at peace, right where she was.
            Ramona did make coffee to go with the pastries, which were a great success with the family. Blue wanted a piece. The cats did not, pastry being much too lightweight for pumas.
            After the treat was eaten, and the coffee drunk, Twigg put the bakery box on the fire.
            Finally, Marge, spoke, “I’m happy here in the forest. The forest is the only place where I have felt as if I belonged and was a part of it. I never fit anywhere else.
            “This was a surprise to me. I thought that my life would be the usual path, school, college, job, maybe family. But after I went home the last few times I visited here, that path felt hollow and sad to me. It’s not what I want.”
            “So, what do you really want? Be really sure. There are not too many ways for a young woman to maker her way in the Great Forest. Do you have any ideas how you might do that?” said Ralph. “And how can I help you?”
            “My mother has been paying for everything. Before I change everything and leave college I want to make sure that she doesn’t have to spend any more money on me. This leads me to looking into the Forest Service. It’s a little bit of a long shot, but I did some research and there is a chance that there might be a volunteer job with them. It pays less than even a trainee ranger receives, but enough because it’s typical for housing to be provided,” said Marge.
            “Well, Marge,” said Ramona, “I can see why you would prefer to be here. I’ve never been down into town myself. Maeve tells me that it’s very busy, with many people moving around and talking and busily doing many things and that there are few trees, only a little grass and only a few plants in gardens. I don’t think I could live there either.”
            “Who is Maeve, Ramona,” said Marge.
            “Oh, haven’t you met Maeve? She is our friend, a very special sort of a Raven. She brings and takes the news. She observes the world from high in the air. I believe that she has seen you! In fact, I’m sure of it. She misses nothing,” said Ramona. She had taken a seat again after the coffee and all.
            “I would very much like to meet her,” said Marge. Then turning to Ralph again, she said, “The reason that I came to you, Sir, is that I have heard that the ranger in this section of the National Forst is a very good friend of yours.
            “They said, on the website, to speak to someone at a station and see if there was a position opening. I thought my chances would be better if you introduced me to him! Would that be possible?” she said at last, getting to the point.
              “Of course, I will take you to speak to the ranger,” said Ralph. “Do you have another plan in case this one doesn’t work out?”
            “Not really. I’m not a Forest Keeper, no matter how much I might want to be. If I can’t work for the Forest Service, I’m not sure what to do next,” she admitted.
            “Marge, you’re the first human who ever said that to me!” said Ralph. “I wish that you could be! I would change you into one of us if I could, but I can’t do that!”
            “Your mother wouldn’t like that very much,” laughed Ramona.
            “Then she wouldn’t believe in me either!” crowed Marge, enjoying the idea. “I would be impossible, imaginary, mythic! Mom can’t see those things at all.”        
            And as if it were written into the script somehow, right on schedule, Maeve wafted down out of the opening to the sky over their heads and landed on Ralph’s shoulder. She folder her wings neatly and looked around. If a raven could have raised her eyebrows, Maeve would have.
            “What’s up, Boss,” said she. But she was looking right at Marge while she said it.
            “Marge, this is Maeve. Maeve this is Marge. It’s about time you two met. You probably know, because you see it all, that Marge is Twigg’s good friend.
            “Now, Marge would like to work for Ranger Rick, so I’m going to go introduce them. Want to come along?” said Ralph.
            “Of course I do, Boss,” said Maeve. “Let’s go!”
            Therefore, looking nothing at all, not really, like characters from the Wizard of Oz, towering Ralph, with Maeve on his shoulder, Twigg only slightly less imposing than his father, and Marge in her puffer jacket, rain hat, and Carhartts, and backpack all set out for the ranger station together.
            “Oh, this isn’t far from the Home Clearing!” said Marge when she saw the Forest Service station come into view.
            “Sometimes the path is shorter than at other times, but yes, we are near neighbors in a way, Rick and I,” said Ralph.
            Rick’s service vehicle was parked by the dumpster at the out edge of the parking lot, so it looked like an interview was coming up.

🍀

A Fabulous Tootsday To One and All!

 

⭐A friend's kitty, when he was very young.⭐

The cats got together to wish you all a great day!

"We love you will sniffs, chomps, licks, all the usual!"

The Purring™ was intense and heartfelt!

Happy Tootsday!

Meow!

🤍

🌸

It's Just Like My Dream!

 

Pacific Crest Trail

            Before Marge left town, she drove down to Grand Ave. and parked in front of the new French bakery. She wanted to buy some fancy pastries for Twigg, and maybe his family, in case she got to talk to them. This wasn’t the usual doughnut type place. Everything had French names. So, she just picked four types, and bought three of each. She laughed because the rather startling sum could be considered an investment in her future, if one looked at it the right way.
            She put the box on the floorboards in front on the passenger’s side, so it couldn’t fall no matter how many times she hit the brakes.
            Marge didn’t like the freeway much, so she drove eastward out of town and connected with old highway 9, and turned north. Then she drove up to Arlington and made the right turn onto 530. It was a pleasantly rural drive, even though the sky was low and cloudy and looked like rain. Soon, she made the right turn onto SR20. Next was the right turn onto the small gravel road where her mother lived at the very end right before the path leading out to Thaga and Ooog’s house, and then the meadow and her meeting place with Twigg.
            It was always a little tricky parking by her mom’s house without going in to visit. Fortunately Hondas are quiet. It was more a matter of timing than anything else.
            Under the cover of greyness driving a grey car, Marge ghosted past the front of Enid’s house and parked near some bushes just beyond. She came around to the other side and shouldered the ever present backpack, and taking the box of pastries, she closed the door quietly and locked up.
            It was just before noon. She had timed this well.
            Bushes full of raindrops pushed in from both sides of the path. It must have already rained up here earlier. Carhartts and a puffer jacket are pretty good rain gear, with one of those goofy rain hats.
            Nobody was in evidence at Thaga’s place, though there were lights in the window.
            As usual, Marge got there first. She didn’t sit because the ground was kind of wet.
            But very soon, Twigg appeared. He made no sound.
            “Hi, Margie,” he said as he came around the Gifting Stump.
            Looking him over and sensing his size all over again, Marge said, “No bees today, Twigg?”
            “Oh, yeah. On days like this they are sleepy and stay around the hive,” said Twigg.
            “Makes sense. It doesn't look too floral out here today. Hey, look, I brought some goodies. I was hoping to maybe talk to Ralph and Ramona,” said Marge. She lifted the lid a little so he could peek in.
            “What’s up?” said he.
            “I’ve just about decided to change my life totally. I want to be in the forest. I’m able to work and I’m thinking about the Forest Service. Stuff I’ve been reading said I should talk to a ranger to see if there are any volunteer positions around here.
            “I’m tired of that room I live in. My classes seem meaningless. I don’t need them. No school can make a person into a painter. Either they are or they aren’t. You know?” said Marge.
            “How can my dad help you?” said Twigg.
            “Well. I remember that he is friends with the local Forest Service ranger. You told me about them pretending that there are none of you guys around here and how they work together to keep the secret. I thought that was pretty cool, and I was hoping for an introduction, to tell the truth,” she said finally.
            “I’m pretty sure he would do that. Let’s go see,” said Twigg. “I’ll carry the box if you like.”
            As they set off for the Home Clearing, Marge in front and Twigg behind, with the box of pastries, a great big black bird was circling in the sky overhead.
            The last time Marge had entered the forest here there had been a strange transitional moment when she entered. It had been almost like a dimensional shift. This time she just walked right in.
            “What happened, Twigg? Why didn’t I have to do that shift thing this time?” said Marge.
            “I think the forest knows you,” said Twigg. He smiled his sweet brown eyed smile then.
            “Really?” she said, looking around in wonder at the huge fir trunks and small flowers along the path, and the huckleberry bushes and salal. She put out her hand and touched the leaves as she walked.
            “It’s just like my dream, Twigg,” she said.
            “You’ve been here before twice now,” said Twigg.
            She walked slowly remembering the way to the Home Clearing. Bob and Berry saw them coming and greeted them with tails swinging together and cat smiles on their faces. Then they turned and preceded the friends down the path.
            As Twigg and Marge neared the center, where the fire was, a white wolf dashed out, circled them, and ran back down.
            At the center, sitting by their fire were Ralph, imposing, humorous, curious, and Ramona, serenely presiding. Cherry sat on Ralph’s knee, watching Marge come in with Twigg behind.
            “Blue, come to me,” said the little child on her father’s knee, and the wolf ran up, licked her hand and settled down at Ralph’s feet.
            “It’s good to see you again, Marge,” said Ralph. “It’s been too long!”
            “Welcome, Marge,” said Ramona, “Please sit by our fire. I bet it’s been raining out there hasn’t it? If you have time, I’ll make coffee.”
            “Thank you both. It is a little damp out there,” said Marge, completely charmed, as she took a seat near Ramona.
            “She came bearing a gift of French delicacies,” said Twigg to the group in general, before sitting beside Marge. “She has a question to ask.”
            “What can I help you with?” said Ralph.
            There he sat, smiling, waiting for the girl to speak.

🍁

Marge and the Rainy Sunday Night

 

            Mid-quarter. Classes tomorrow. Marge sighed heavily.
            She was sitting on the narrow hard bed in her rented room. Her heavy brown hair was loose on her shoulders, and she was wearing a yellow flannel nightgown printed in juvenile motifs, for the fun of it. She looked down at her knees and frowned thoughtfully.
            It didn’t seem right.
            “I don’t really belong here,” she told the room, listening to her own voice.
            She thought of her friend, Twigg, then she smiled. She enjoyed thinking of what her classmates would say if they knew her secret.
            There was a vertical slice of shiny black window glass where the curtains parted. In the middle distance were street lights and a few other lit objects and signs. Inside the room there was a simple small table and a chair. Her laptop and phone lay on the table next to a cheap lamp. Its cylindrical shade glowed dully She looked around the room, surveying her belongings. There wasn’t much and she kept it that way. The greatest bulk of it, besides some clothing, was her supplies for art classes.
            A bathroom shared by three other female students was down the hall.
            “I need to get out of here,” she said to the walls. The walls didn’t argue against it.
            Eventually Marge lay down and covered up and went to sleep with her lamp still switched on.
            During the night she dreamed of the forest. In the dream she walked a path between first growth giants. The air was complex with bird calls, insect voices, and subliminal influences. A scent rose from the forest floor, ancient, known, speaking of both birth and death, decay and newness. A fungal note to it, but also a resinous backnote.
            As  she walked she touched ferns, salal, huckleberry foliage. She laid her hands on fir bark and stood listening. Yes, there was something there.
            There was a wind too. It turned things this way and that, as if to say, “look here!” She didn’t know the names of the flowers she saw, but they gazed up at her trustingly, vulnerably.
            Further along, a mountain cat paced before her. Before turning around a bend in the trail, the cat turned and looked at Marge with wise yellow eyes.
            She began to think that she was actually there to meet Twigg, but he was being hard to find.
            Suddenly a huge black raven drifted through the atmosphere between the trunk and vanished.
            She awoke with a sharp intake of breath. When she realized where she was, she cried.
            That didn’t last long. Marge was a decisive girl.
            She grabbed her phone and called Enid, her mother, who was paying for everything, tuition, food, rent, supplies and gas.
            “Mom, this isn’t working. I have to do something else,” she told her mother.
            “You woke me at 5AM to tell me you’re dropping out?” said Enid.
            “Not just dropping out. I want to work in the forest, maybe be a forest ranger or something,” said Marge, expecting trouble.
            “Look, before you do anything, you’d better do a lot of research. I’m not sure art majors are a natural for the forest service. I mean, think about it. They want science types,” said Enid.
            “I will, don’t worry, Mom,” said Marge, already opening and waking her computer.
            A lot of research is what she did, and she found out that Enid was correct about becoming a ranger, but that there were volunteer jobs, that paid less money, but enough, and that volunteer programs could lead to ranger positions, possibly. She could do trail maintenance, or host a camp. The more she looked into it, the better she liked it. The information she found online suggested that she go to a Forest Service ranger station and talk to the ranger about volunteering.
            Saturday coming up was her usual date to visit Twigg.
            She worked her way through the week’s classes, as she normally did.
            Saturday morning came. She needed to talk to Twigg and maybe even Ralph, before blowing her whole deal out of the water.

🍃

Just One Of Those Bubbly Open Threads

 A glorious day to you all!

With hearts as light as bubbles.

🤍

The Most Essential Thing A Believer in Jesus Can Do

 

By our dear friend, Babbazee

The most important thing a Jew can do 
(Also, any believer in Jesus, too!) 

according to the biblical covenant

 is  TOV* (literally in Hebrew  "good")

TOV means acts of  loving kindness,

 doing "good"

but it also means much more than just acts of loving kindness 

or doing good

 because Hebrew is a deep language

and the context around a word shades a word's meaning in situ

apparently if we read Genesis correctly 

the entire reason for our existence

 is to do TOV,

 God makes us a speaking (generative) presence 

created in his image

 to carry out this TOV on the earth. 

So if like Jesus I want to be a good Jew and do TOV in the world, 

which is what "serving God" actually means,

what does that mean? what can I do? 

Jesus said his only command is "love " (John 13)

which has been interpreted collectively as weak willed performance art, 

a hippy dippy flower trip, 

something so shallow self centered, full of Satan and tied to sexuality

 that even Charlie Manson's girls were dead into LOVE...

whereas the reality is that what Jesus was commanding 

was the hardest and most impossible thing we could possibly try to do. 

TOV,  good, kindness, love.... even when they are nailing you to a tree,

 stoning you to death in the street, throwing you in the ovens.

 Do TOV said Jesus regardless of what they do. 

He also said if we enter a place 

where the people are so immune to TOV that you can make no dent

you should shake the sand from your sandals and split, (Matthew 10)

further he told us only those who have endurance can accomplish this TOV doing

https://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Enduring

Other than that, he never offered any other solution or instruction. 

No revolutionary plan, no practical guideline,

 no government policies or social services,  

no political or secular solution.

 Just TOV. Go do TOV.  And endure to the end.

So we go.

And there's the Ha Satan, (literally translates from Hebrew as THE ADVESARY)

Satan! our old friend, the author of almost everything we "love", 

deeply woven into everything earthly surrounding us, 

sympathy for the devil if you please... 

We do sympathize, we love him, we don't even know we love him, 

today more that ever he is an all encompassing presence in our daily lives 

so fully integrated as to go unnoticed. Our silent partner. 

Our groomer, our abuser. 

Our "Love" is full of the Ha Satan. 

How to do TOV then 

when we have been groomed to be the lovers of Ha Satan

 and are completely immersed in his world?

How to do TOV when we don't even know what TOV is?

You are surrounded in life by people that you "love"

 and that ostensibly  "love" you. 

Husbands, wives, parents, children, brothers, sisters, friends. 

They all say they love you

 and they believe that they love you. 

You say you love them, and believe you love them too.

 Proof or expressions of that love 

are largely tied up in appearances

and the acquisition of "things",  emotional or material

 which the lover and the loved each respectively perceive as "expected"

But that love is not the TOV, not the "love" that Jesus commanded us to do.

That love is full of the SELF, full of conditions and needs,

full of distorted expectations, 

full of shit.

How to do TOV at all then,

as unwilling unconscious lovers of  Ha Satan ourselves,

among the unwitting and willing lovers of Ha Satan 

who will not thank us for our TOV 

no, they will eat our TOV, spit it out in our faces 

and then nail us to the nearest tree.

It's impossible. 

But we have to try. It's the only direction we have been given.

We can not do it out of our own powers, 

which is where the negating of self thing comes in.

It has to be done outside of ego, intellect and our own needs

 therefore it has to be done by retracting our "selves" enough

 to allow God's presence a path through to do it for us. (Isaiah 35) 

Then it becomes easy....

"My Yoke is Light" (Matthew 11)

This is not my power,

this is the power of my God (Genesis 41)

The kabbalistic interpretation 

of the begininng of the universe is called "Tzim Tzum"

It is a retraction.

The idea is that there is GOD and nothing else.  

GOD retracts a portion of himself

 in order to clear a space

 for the existence of the universe

"The kingdom of heaven is within" (Luke 17)

Likewise 

made in his image

we must retract a portion of ourselves in order to do TOV .

*TOV is pronounced with a long O.

A Purrsday Open Thread for November 13, 2025

 

A Kitty’s Kiss

 

Is a little sniff.

And lighter than this,

A swipe of his lips and teeth,

Across my hand.

The purring too,

Surely.

🌸

Marc, The Butter-Loving Cat

 

As told by Suzy

            Once, before our time, there was a certain little house made of stones and wood. It was like a fairytale cottage of the best type. The little house was situated at the entry to a wild and deep forest. The forest was seldom entered by man or man’s companion animals. It was too forbidding. Just like the forests in all the fairytales, the thorns must have been two whole inches long. If one insisted on entering this forest, all sound became muffled. The air was still, stifling.
            Besides Sofie, in this house lived a cat. He was one of those famous butter-colored toms. His name was Marc. He was a lover of butter, as a purely sane fellow. That’s where the old lady who also lived in the house comes into this story. Many cats are provided with a saucer of cream in the morning. It’s true! However, this old lady made and sold butter, since she possessed two adorable doe-eyed light brownish cows, Elsa and Helga.
            Marc received a pat of butter each morning, before going out to hunt. Not only did Marc keep Elsa and Helga’s barn clear of mice, but he also crept into the dark deep forest looking for better prey. Sometimes a rabbit, sometimes a serpent. If he caught a big rabbit he brought it home to Sophie to cook for both of them.
            As you can imagine, once Marc had eaten his butter and licked the little green glass saucer clean, he thanked Sofie and slipped out of the daytime cat door. At night it was closed, so Marc did have to be home before night.
            Anyhow, he went out to hunt. First the barn. No mice scurried before him. Clear.
            So Marc set out to enter the dark forest, by a certain little tunnel he had built through the bottom of the thorny vines. First he flushed out a robin. No dealing with that. Then he was insulted by a pair of noisy crows. He ignored them.
            “Get to the point of the story, Suzy,” I said.
            “OK, here goes,” she said.
            Leaving the crows behind, Marc paced deeper and deeper into the forest. Presently, as they used to say, he came to a huge old grampa of a tree. Perhaps it was a cedar. They are special anyhow. Down near its roots was a rather obscure looking opening, like some animal’s home burrow. Marc felt that he had never seen it before. He was intrigued.
            As he was considering whether he had indeed never seen this burrow before, someone popped out of it. Marc sat back on his haunches and wrapped his long yellow tail around himself.
            Oh, you know the type of creature it was. He was about the size of a big rabbit, but upright in carriage like a man. Like all the folk of his breed, he looked wise and cruel and crafty. His skin was the color of forest loam, as was his little knitted tunic. His feet were too big for his body and bare. His eyes were black as currants, but a lot more shiny. His grey hair was plaited into two braids which hung forward over his little shoulders. Likewise he had a long grey beard, braided in one long plait. He smiled at Marc.

 

Hello, well met, Marc.
Yes I know your name!
Come with me!
Down in earth below,
I have the finest butter a cat could wish for!
All for you!

 

            Marc laughed, thinking of Sofie and Elsa and Helga and the green glass saucer.

 

Oh, Levon. Yes I know your name!

I see that you think me simple.
Not so!
May God confound you!
I’ll not go below.

 

            The little fellow screamed a scream of dinner thwarted and frustration, turned on his gnarly little heel and vanished into his burrow, which vanished likewise behind him.

            “I didn’t think I had seen this hole before,” said wise Marc, the butter-loving cat.

            On the way home after all of that he caught a mole and had it for his supper. He arrived home long before dark, entering the cat door in Sophie’s door and took a lovely nap in front of her little blue enameled stove. Later, Sophie shared her chicken stew with him, then she put the plank over the cat door, so no creatures could creep in during the night.

The End

 

            “That’s a pretty good story, Suzy. I didn’t know you had it in you,” I said.

            “Thanks,” said Suzy with a smile and in a little creaky voice.

            “By the way, how did Marc know the faery’s name,” I wondered.

            “The crows told him he better look out for Levon,” she said. “They were rudely teasing him.”

            “And how did Levon know Marc’s name,” I said.

            “Snooping at windows, hanging around Sophie’s barn,” said Suzy.

            “Well, that ties it all up into a neat bow!” I said.

 

That’s The Real End

😸

Riches and No Fame

 

            The night after the harrowing of Gary and Jim, Ralph and Hector slept rough again, old style, around the fire, which tended to always be burning. In Forest Men’s historical terms, a fire was actually a luxury. They didn’t need it, but they sure liked it.
            Blue, the wolf cub, liked to sleep outside, so she left Cherry with Ramona and slept by the fire too. Wolves crave cold.
            “Hi, Blue,” Ralph said when he woke. He noogied her between the ears and sat up thoughtfully. He was thinking about those two rifles up on the high shelf in the cave with Ramona and Cherry, not to mention the cats. He wanted to be rid of them as quickly as possible. A frown creased his normally unfurrowed brow for only a moment.
            It was a little early for Ramona to be up and about. Fall days were really getting short too.
            “Hector,” said Ralph. “How about we go see Ranger Rick. I want to take him those rifles. Those guys can’t go to the law, or come around looking for them because they were breaking their own laws. By the time I explain the situation, Rick will know to be on the lookout for poachers anyhow.”
            Hector’s eyes opened. He looked a little startled to see where he was, but he remembered and smiled.
            “Those two, Ralph! Like a couple of bad badgers with guns and beer!” grinned Hector, sitting up cross legged like Ralph. “I guess I’ll find out who Ranger Rick is.”
            Ralph got up, all 9 expansive feet of him, and stretched. He put enough fuel on the fire to keep it going for a while. Then he went into the cave to see Ramona and get the rifles.
            “Mona, Hector and I are going to go see Rick. I want to leave these things with him. If he doesn’t want them he can sell them or something. I think we’ll take Blue along, since Cherry is still sleeping.”
            “OK, Baby,” said Ramona from her snuggly nest in the big quilt.
            “Twigg, keep an eye on things for a while, OK?” he said to his son who also woke.
            “I will,” said Twigg agreeably.
            Outside again, after quietly closing the clever green door, Ralph grabbed the bag of beer cans that Gary and Jim had dumped in the forest. He had the rifles in his right hand and the bag in his left.
            “You want to come along, Blue?” he asked the wolf girl, and she agreed that she would like to come along.
            “With luck, Hector, Rick will be making coffee or having his trainee do it, and he might even have something interesting to eat!” said Ralph.
            Secretly, Ralph was hopeful that showing up with Hector wouldn’t make Dexter faint again.
            The path over to the Ranger Station is maybe a couple of blocks in length, not far, but far enough. When they got to the dumpster at the edge of the parking lot, Ralph got rid of the bag of cans. He was pleased to see that Rick’s National Forest truck was parked nearby. He touched the hood. It was warm, so he hadn’t been there a long time.
            Ralph knocked on the office door, opened it, and stuck his head in, while ducking enough to get through.
            “Rick! Are you in here? I need to talk to you!” said Ralph.
            “Good timing, Ralph,” said Rick from the kitchen nook, “I’m just making coffee.”
            “Make a lot, I brought company!” said Ralph.
            Ralph and Hector came in all the way and Rick peeked out of the nook. His eyebrows went up, when he saw Hector and Blue, and he went back into the kitchen.
            Ralph took his big chair and Hector sat on the regular chair, hoping that it would survive his weight. Ralph laid the two rifles on Rick’s desk and they waited for a few minutes. Blue sat by Ralph’s feet very politely.
            “Dexter isn’t here yet,” Rick called from the kitchen area. “I hope he doesn’t miss this!”
            Rick came out with a tray with three cups of steaming coffee a couple of minutes later. He also had a big bakery box of doughnuts, mixed variety flavors. He put the tray down on the desk and took a silent second or two to look at the rifles.
            “OK, Ralph. What’s the story?” said Rick, while passing out cups of coffee and removing the lid from the box of doughnuts. Fortunately, Rick had purchased two dozen doughnuts!
            “Well, in a nutshell, Rick, we discovered two poachers drinking beer and shooting out across the river yesterday. Also, in the same nutshell, Hector here, my cousin by the way, say hi to Rick Hector. Hector here was riding his moose, Hugo, harmlessly through the forest and one of these critters wounded Hugo, who is up in the meadow recovering.
            “Hector and I felt that it was our duty to discourage those two. They have names, but only first names, Gary and Jim, if that helps. We discouraged them so well that they dropped their weapons in their eagerness to escape! They also left beer cans, which are in your dumpster," said Ralph.
            “I’ll just bet you discouraged them,” said Rick, smiling at the picture in his mind.
            “Yeah, I did the old horrible smell thing. Hector showered them with orbs, and then I did the old boulders coming to get you thing. We weren’t visible of course. I bet they think the forest is haunted,” giggled Ralph.
            “So. These are poacher’s rifles, eh?” said Ranger Rick, more seriously.
            “Yeah, we don’t want them,” said Ralph. “I thought maybe you would, or you could sell them or something.” All three of them enjoyed that idea for a moment.
            At that very instant, trainee Dexter popped in the door. He didn’t scream or faint, but he looked pretty surprised.
            “Hey, Dexter, we have company. You’ll have to go get another chair out of the back room,” said Rick, by way of steadying his trainee. “You know Ralph, of course. Hector here is his cousin, and the wolf is a wolf, I guess. Does she have a name, Ralph?”
            “Her name is Blue,” said Ralph. “I should have said.”
            “Good morning, Ralph and Hector and Blue,” said Dexter. “I’ve never gotten to meet a wolf close up! May I pet her?"

            "Of course, she's friendly," said Ralph.
            Then they had to tell Dexter the story of the two poachers and how there came to be two rifles on Rick’s desk.             Dexter also thought the two had gotten what they deserved, but it was too bad they couldn’t really turn them in since they had escaped safely.
            Dexter was actually a very nice young man, just a tad flighty, but he would be OK. He handled the sudden meeting with Hector and Blue in addition to Ralph pretty well.
            Between the four of them, and Blue, they ate all 24 doughnuts and drank two pots of coffee.
            “You know, Ralph, the National Forest owes you a reward. But, I can’t admit you are here to reward,” said Rick. “I would like to personally thank you, and even reward you with something, if there was something that would make sense to you around here.”
            “The doughnuts were pretty good, Rick. I can’t think of anything that I need. I pretty much have everything a guy could want out there in the Home Clearing,” said Ralph. “It was just fun for us.”
            “Would Ramona like anything I have around here?” said Rick hopefully.
            “Well, she really likes lighters. It makes making all those fires a lot easier,” admitted Ralph.
            “Done!” said Rick. “I have a package of new ones. I make fires, and smoke some too.”
            Rick went back into his storage area and came back with the package of new lighters, but also a nice shovel, and a small bow saw.
            “While I was back there I saw this shovel and saw and wondered if you could use them,” said Rick.
            “Maybe so, Rick! Maybe so!” said Ralph. “But don’t you need them?”
            “Oh, I can get more. No problem,” said Rick. “I don’t guess I’ll put those rifles in the lost and found. I’ll check around and see if anybody I know wants one of them, I’ll keep the better one.
            “I hope Hugo recovers from his wound soon, too,” said Rick to Hector. “I didn’t know anyone rode moose!”
            “Mostly they don’t,” said Hector, “But Hugo and I have been friends since he was little, so it works out OK.”
            “Thanks for the doughnuts and coffee,” said Ralph. “We better go see what Ramona is making for breakfast now!” He was patting his tummy thoughtfully.
            “You guys are welcome, come on over any time,” said Rick.
            So, Ralph, carrying the shovel and the saw, and Hector and Blue slipped out of the office door and vanished down the path to the Home Clearing. Ralph was already thinking about experimenting with his new tools, and he was a bit hungry.

🍩

It Was That Regulation Dark and Stormy Night

 

            Ruell was a dreamer of dreams, riding a black Harley-Davidson Sprint. He was often a sleepy man, and he was very sleepy as he rode home after a second shift.
            The sky was low, cloudy, reflecting some of the light of the city. It had started to rain again. The wind was blowing from the north, gusting to maybe 25 mph, not a super impediment, but noticeable. He rode into the wind, hoping that it would keep him awake.
            The temperature was barely 40 degrees. It was late November. A cold wet fall that year.
            Ruell tried to keep his mind on the freeway. He tried not to let thoughts of home, warmth, food and bed distract him from vigilance. The point was to reach that destination in one piece, not die dreaming of it.
            Driving the freeway was still a mild pleasure in those days. The traffic was light, and a person could travel across counties from city to small towns in very short periods of time. It was still a novelty. He was riding the motorcycle because it was fun, though he said it was to save on gas.
            The wind, or discipline, did keep him awake. He made the freeway exit nearest home in good order. The rain was coming down harder now. It bounced off of his bike, his jacket, his legs and his gloved hands like there was a core of ice in each drop. It was colder too.
            He had maybe ten more miles before home. Very few street lights illuminated the rest of the journey. Just one at an intersection or two. His headlight poked a yellow finger into the dark wetness of the country road. He was putting along at maybe 30 on the straightaways and less on the curves. There was one 45degree corner with a high chain link fence on one side of the angle, the one he was facing as he came toward it, still a couple of blocks away.
            So far, so good.
            But then, the planet shifted or something. Maybe something opened and slammed shut again.  Maybe he was dreaming, they always say that, don’t they, the audience, when the story is told. The friend of one’s bosom will likely say it.
            He was preparing to make the righthand corner when something intangible, iridescent, but impossibly dark and heart-stoppingly huge moved suddenly in his peripheral vision. It stole all of his attention. His right hand twisted the throttle reflexively and Ruell, father of four and serious citizen of the land, rode his Harley-Davidson right into that chain link fence at, let’s say 40mph.
            His helmet saved his head. It didn’t help his wrist. The bike made a dent in the fence, the bike fell to the side, and the rider fell into the ditch.  He lay still.
            He felt his heart beating. He noticed that he was breathing. He considered his legs. They seemed to be intact, no pain there. Nothing anywhere else until he got to his left wrist. That was beginning to hurt, the way things hurt when a bone is displaced, or cracked. He was still stunned so he lay there trying to remember what had startled him. His mind veered away from a memory.     

            “Oh,” he thought, “I finally did it. I went to sleep on this bike!”
            Of course, there were no cell phones back then, and in his situation there was no phone booth, and no one knew where he was, and they had no way of knowing what had happened to him. He was on his own, with one useful hand. He sat up to consider his situation. The wrist was really talking to  him now.
            As he sat there, he sensed an incursion of regret entering his thought processes. “No kidding,” he thought.
            “I regret that I disturbed you,” it came in stronger this time. “It was not my intention.”
            The nearly visible immensity came near.  It seemed like a bulky mass enclosing a small galaxy of stars.
            “Are you a ghost?” said Ruell faintly. He knew darn well there were no ghosts, so this was an awkward question for him to ask.
            “No. But we don’t have time to go into all of that now. You need to go home before you go into shock. If you just keep going you’ll get there, and yes, I know where home is. Your mind shows it to me like a movie!” said the sparkly entity inaudibly.
            Star, for lack of a name, picked up the bike and moved a couple of bent things on it into workable positions. He set it on the road, using the kickstand like he did this all the time.
            “May I touch your wrist?” said the mysterious being.
            Ruell held out his injured hand and received a slight touch on his wrist.
            He knew a cue when he saw one. So he mounted his Harley and started it up. The wrist still hurt but it worked.
            When he turned to say something in thanks, he was alone again.
            Slowly, very carefully, he rode the rest of the way home, through the dark and rainy night.
            When he got home, his wife said he must go to the local hospital, but before they set out for the emergency department, his eldest daughter stabilized the wrist and hand with a foot long piece of a wooden ruler, wrapping the whole package in an elastic bandage.
            In the morning his wrist was surgically repaired. He took a couple of weeks off of work, since his work involved both hands, and he drove an automatic Chevy to work for a while. The Harley was repaired and continued in service for some time.
            He never stopped wondering if he had met a real Sasquatch on that dark and stormy road. He was pretty sure he had. And he never told anyone either, for he was a cagey sort of man.

🕚