In the morning, when Rick arrived at
the ranger station, the sky was clear, and dawn was near. There was a good six
inches of crunchy frozen snow on the ground, and in the parking areas. There was
a set of tire tracks lit up by his headlights. “Mhm,” thought Ranger Rick. The tracks led up to the campground
parking area, where a small, old-fashioned RV sat. Snow campers, apparently. Covered
in the same six inches of snow, there was an old black car. It was a Buick,
parked two spots over from Rick’s usual place. Rick was guessing that it was an
early 1950s model. That part wasn’t a mystery, because his grandpa had driven a
1953 Buick back in Kansas. It was also black. He looked for tire tracks leading to
the Buick. There were none. Rick could see no reason for it to
be there. He didn’t see any footprints around it, and there were no spare
people wandering around, as far as he could see. Right on schedule, at 7:55, Dexter
appeared. He wore his dayglo orang earflap hat and carried a foil covered plate
which was steaming in the cold air as he came through the door. It turned out
to be a plate of those little egg and other stuff things people cook in muffin pans
for breakfast. Hannah had sent them along for both Rick and Dexter’s morning
snack. “Dexter, do you know anything about
that old Buick out there?” said Rick, by way of greeting. The savory scent drifted through
the air. Hannah was an excellent cook. “No. I don’t know anything about it.
We didn’t see it come in. I wonder whose it is?” said Dexter, setting his plate
down in the kitchen by the coffee pot. “It’s not illegal or anything,” said
Rick. “I just can’t figure it out.” “I wonder if they had engine trouble
and had to park it somewhere?” said Dexter, looking out of the window at the
old car. “Did you notice that there are no
footprints around it? Riddle me that, boy reporter,” said Rick. He sat down at
his desk with his coffee. “They must have parked there before
it started snowing. You can eat these things out of hand. No forks needed,”
said Dexter, coming out of the kitchen, doing just that. “We were here before it started snowing,”
said Rick. It was a quiet, lazy day at the
ranger station and in the campground. The old RV took off, the passenger waving
in the general direction of the office as they drove away. The old Buick sat there.
At least it did most of the day. Rick and Dexter kept checking to see if some
hiker appeared, but nothing happened. No hardy soul emerged from the forest or
anywhere else. No stranger seeking help came to the office door. Right before 5PM, Rick went to the
window to take another look. It was gone. The crazy part was that
there were no tire tracks leading out. There were only the four marks in the
snow where the Buick’s tires had been, and still no footprints. “Hey, Dexter. It’s gone. What the
hell,” said Rick. Dexter looked up from his phone,
where he had been looking at short videos. “Huh?” he said and joined Rick at
the window. “I know it was really there. You can
see the tire prints. You saw it,” said Rick. “Now you see it, now you don’t!
Yeah, I saw it. But now I don’t,” said Dexter.
It was a quick transition between
fall and early winter that year. First there were light freezes in the Great
Forest. Then, one late morning when the clouds were low and milky, and the
forest was huddled in silence, small flakes of snow began to fall. Back at the ranger station, Rick
stood drinking coffee, looking out of the window facing the parking area. He
saw the first tiny flakes. He started considering when it would be time to
close the campground for the winter. Dexter and Hannah could stay, of course,
but he figured they would rent a place somewhere else. There would be feet of
snow before very long. Now, a true Ozark Howler is not
quite as weatherproof as Ralph or any of his kind. Maurice had grown up at a
more temperate elevation, not the top of a mountain range. When the snow began
to fall, he was just waking up in the old farmhouse. It was cold, but he
welcomed the tiny sparkling flakes like a kid does. He ran out in front of the
house and squinted up into the milky clouds. He tried to bite some of the
flakes as they fell, like a silly canid would. He ran back into the house and
laid his book on the kitchen counter and wrote a few words about the snow. His stomach growled. Coming back down to earth, he
decided to catch something and take it to Suzy and Uncle Bob, so it would save
Bob a hunting trip and Suzy might be agreeable with cooking for them all. He went out behind the farmhouse to
the forgotten, overgrown orchard and stood silently listening. The snow flakes
were a little bigger now, but he resisted the urge to snap at them so that he didn’t
alert the turkeys he was looking for. Soon he heard small cautious steps
among the dry leaves. Hesitant, irregular steps such as all have seen chickens
do. Maurice stood, gray and grizzled,
and nearly invisible against the back of the old farmhouse. When the flock of
turkey hens got close, he grabbed a couple of them by their legs. Then he loped
off to the Stump House. “Wake up, Bob! Hey, Suzy, look what
I have!” sang Maurice as he neared their still silent home. “Wake up! It’s
snowing!” he called loudly. Suzy woke first, as was normal, and
came out thinking about fire and food. “Good morning, Maurice!” she said. “I
see what you have!” Bob came out blinking and yawning. “Oh,
hi, Maurice! Thanks, man!” “Do you need more firewood, Suzy?” asked
Maurice. But a Firekeeper always needs more firewood, so she said yes. Therefore,
Bob and Maurice went out to forage for fuel while Suzy got the turkeys ready to
cook. The snow continued to fall. It began
to rest in little white clumps on leaves, and to settle on the ground between
grass blades. The sky was opaque with it. The temperature dropped. Maurice was
still tickled with the snow, but he was beginning to feel it in his feet, and
down his back. He shivered. They found a small maple and being content
with that, they pushed it over, and Uncle Bob, who is still a Squatch after
all, was able to drag it out of the ground. Then he pulled it all the way back
to the Stump House. It was green wood, but as we all know, green wood is better
than no wood. They broke it up and added it to the dry wood already there, it was
fine. Soon Suzy was cooking the turkeys, all cut up in serving pieces in a big
flat baking pan over the fire. While they waited, Maurice played a
few of their tunes, and Uncle Bob made up new comic rhymes to make Maurice and
Suzy laugh. Maurice was feeling the cold on his
backside, but his front facing the fire was warm. He began to think about the
feasibility of making a fire in the old iron stove in the farmhouse. He had no
idea how to go about this, but he was thinking about it, because he knew he was
going to have to go home again. When they had eaten both turkeys,
the snow was getting to be about three inches deep. “I think I better go home now,” said
Maurice. “Thanks for cooking, Suzy!”
"No, thank you, Maurice," said Suzy.
"Come back soon!" said Uncle Bob. The first snowstorm is a magical
thing. In fact, Maurice had never seen anything so cold, clear, and so beautiful. He
was full of the wonder of it. And it just kept falling all around like some
kind of a dream. “Shhhh,” the air seemed to say. He felt that this called for a new
kind of music. Snow music. Mystical, not really blue at all. He began
experimenting with some new tunes. He tried to get the snow into the sound.
Sometimes he closed his eyes, just feeling the snow fall on his face and tail.
He stuck his tongue out to taste it too. His steps slowed as he concentrated on
the notes. Late afternoon began to drift toward
evening. He looked around suddenly, noticing that it was beginning to get dark. Nothing
looked familiar. Maurice wasn’t sure where he was. Even the familiar path to
the farmhouse seemed to be utterly gone. Maurice began to suspect that he was
lost, and he didn’t know how it had happened. He began to play Going Home Alone,
while he considered his next move. He saw movement up ahead. He couldn’t
make out what it was up there, but it was tall and seemed to be of a color with
the falling snow. Maybe this was a hint of some kind. So, in his puzzled state, it
occurred to Maurice to approach the movement. Ah, but it moved then, further
away. Maurice followed. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was intrigued
and it was a magical evening. As he followed, he played Going
Home Alone again. Then he played the snow tune. He remembered the words he
had heard sung back to him the first time he went home after the incident. He
played Going Home Alone again. A voice began to sing. You’re not alone. Not alone. In the night, in the dark. Your heart is heard, loudly, clearly. His heart beat faster. The snow was
up to his ankles, and he kicked it up in little puffs as he loped along following. He knew he would follow this voice anywhere it led. And follow he
did, until things began to look familiar. First, he saw the old apple tree,
bare, against the snow. Then he saw the door of his old abandoned farmhouse.
Someone was standing on the steps, and she was smiling at him. At Maurice! Oh! What a beauty she was! She was
icy white, she was tall, she was fantastical, impossible and yet, there she
was. Her ears were pointed, her tail was curled. Her eyes, though he didn’t
know this yet, were icy blue. Her Howler snout was long, and her teeth were
very shiny indeed. “How?” whispered Maurice, frozen
there to his spot in wonder. The snow fell down around them,
growing deeper by the moment. “Come in, Pilgrim,” she said, “and
be at rest.” So, he followed her into the
farmhouse. Inside it was warm. A fire burnt, crackling in the old iron stove. There
was a glow in the room. He could smell something good cooking. His steps were
slow, and he could barely breathe. “Mable?” said Maurice. “How?” “You’re not alone,” she said.
I've been thinking about rules for writing. For me. I don't presume to tell anyone else how to go about it. Of course, if you like my rules, you may certainly adopt them! 1. Do it early in the day.
2. Do it every day.
3. Don't explain, or state. Demonstrate!
4. Don't let anything stop you, even yourself.
5. Don't forget to feed and nurture surrounding live creatures!
6. Go outside. Look at the imponderable enormity of the world. Get some sun.
7. You're going to write some dumb stuff sometimes. It happens. Proceed. Continue.
No doubt you’ll remember the very
young tabby kitten who woke Ralph from his contemplations on his log one fateful
day. Ralph took the little beast to Ramona to consult with her. It was decided
that they couldn’t keep him in the Home Clearing, and that Twigg had a family
of rather wild cats already, and that Thaga had Harold already, who probably
didn’t want to raise a baby version of himself. So, Ralph had decided to run the
baby over to Rick to see if Rick needed a station Tomcat. Rick was just trying
to figure out how to say no, without being a rat, because he had two cats at
home and didn’t feel qualified to raise a baby cat at the station when Dexter
blew in. Dexter, that sweet young guy, took
one look at the kitten, and there were stars in his eyes. He wanted that kitty
so badly. It was love at first mew. On the instant, he thought of his
new wife, Hannah, the campground host, up there holding court in the small
mobile home, when she wasn’t strolling about getting to know the campers and
answering the same kinds of questions every day. Kitten and Hannah went
together in his mind. What could be more natural or lovely, he thought? Having ascertained that Rick didn’t
claim the kitten, Dexter took him from Rick and left to find Hannah at a gallop. Once outside the office, he noticed
that the breeze was a bit chilly, so he put the little thing in his jacket
pocket, where it settled down quietly after a few small questioning meows. Then Dexter started moving again. He
didn’t want to jiggle this child too much, so he walked. First, he went to the mobile. He
stuck his head in the door and called for Hannah. But she wasn’t there. Not
that it was really possible to hide in there, small as it was. He scanned the campground. Ah, there
she was, talking with an elderly lady by a large fancy RV. He approached the two ladies with a
grin on his face. “Dexter!” said Hannah, “Is
everything alright?” The older lady looked from Hannah to
Dexter with a question in her eyes. “Ma’am, this young ranger is my
husband,” said Hannah, by way of introduction. “Oh, he looks like he has something
important to tell you,” said the lady, a Mrs. Brooks. “Why, yes, he doesn’t often come
looking for me with a big grin on his face,” said Hannah, laughing. “I have a surprise for you, Hannah!
Close your eyes,” said Dexter. So, with Mrs. Brooks looking on and
smiling, Hannah closed her eyes and waited. Dexter took the little cat out of
his pocket and said, “Put out your hands, cupped!” He put the tiny guy into
Hannah’s two hands. She inhaled sharply and opened her
eyes, and then held the kitten against her bosom. “Oh!” said Hannah. “Aw!” said Mrs. Brooks. “Dexter, where did he come from? Is
he ours?” cried Hannah, with approximately the same silly look on her face that
Dexter had in the station office. “Ralph found him in the forest and
brought him to Rick. Rick said he was free for the taking, so I did!” said
Dexter. “And now he is our cat, unless you don’t want him.” The kitten did what kittens do, when
a decision is being made in their regard. He purred and snuggled Hannah. “Of course, I want him, Dexter!”
said Hannah. “He’ll need some things, you know. A litter box, kitten food, a
bed of some kind.” “I’ll ask Rick if I can take off for
an hour and run into town, maybe you should come too. You can pick what he
needs,” said Dexter. “We travel with a cat. Not a baby,
but I have something he might like, for before you go shopping,” said Mrs.
Brooks, otherwise known as Alice. “Thank you, Alice,” said Hannah. Mrs. Brooks went back up into her
nice RV, and came back with a couple of those tubes of soft food they give cats
for a treat. “I bet he would like to have some of this before you get proper
kitten food,” she said. “Most cats love them, and it’s soft stuff.” Dexter and Hannah took their baby
cat home, and squeezed one of the tubes into a small saucer, and the kitten did
like the soft food. “What shall we call him?” said
Dexter. “Honey Bear,” said Hannah. “Maybe we’ll
call him Bear for short, but Honey Bear should be his whole name.” “Perfect!” said Dexter. “A perfect
name for the Maple Heart Camp cat!”
Rick did allow Dexter and Hannah,
with Bear, to go to Arlington to the supermarket to buy supplies for their new
family member. When they came back, they had a small basket with a soft lining,
a litter box and litter, and some tinned kitten food.
And as long as Dexter and Hannah
worked at the Maple Heart Camp, Bear, who grew up there, was the campground
cat. He became a rather large cat, and no one ever knew how he came to be in
the Great Forest that day. But he was a very fortunate kitten, all considered.
“Alright, your majesty, Ralph, old
buddy,” said Rick. “Time to come clean.” “What?” Ralph said, innocently, still
munching on a bite of cherry turnover. “So, yeah, the big bear gambit seems
to have worked. I’m not getting anymore chat about the Honey Bear, or the big
brown bear who visited the other night. However, I have sensed a certain amount
of evasiveness from you myself. The farmers are long gone back to their farms.
All is serene and clicking right along at Maple Heart Camp. “I know you know who it was, and I
don’t know why it’s such a big mystery,” said Rick. “Are you shielding someone,
Ralph?” “Um, what makes you think so?” said
the king, evasively. “I’m a little hurt, Ralph. You can
trust me. You know that, don’t you?” “Aw, Rick. I’m sorry. I don’t want
you to feel like that,” said Ralph. Rick stood up and walked over to the
window, looking out toward the dumpster. He sighed. “You know, I’m supposed to
keep track of things around here. And that was a thing.” “The Honey Bear didn’t break
anything, or hurt anybody, did he?” said Ralph. He swiveled around to look at
Rick’s back. “No, he didn’t hurt anybody or break
anything, he just got some farmers talking,” said Rick. “Jeez, Rick, the Honey Bear was
Twigg. Couldn’t you figure that out? Who else is out here fitting the
description?” said Ralph. “I was covering for my kid. And he isn’t coming back
to haunt the campground at night anymore.” “I understand covering for your kid,
that much makes sense to me,” said Rick. “But, why was he here that night? Marge
isn’t here anymore,” said Rick. “Marge isn’t even Marge anymore, which you know
better than I do.” “Twigg is embarrassed,” said Ralph. “Because he was there for a silly reason. He was
trying to surprise Leely.” “I’m still confused. How?” Rick
turned around and went back to his desk. “Why?” said Rick. “When I asked him, he told me that
Leely said that when she was working here, that out beyond the walking trails,
deep in the forest that there was a small patch of Trillium flowers growing that
she used to love to photograph. She said she missed them. Twigg decided to dig
a couple up and bring them to her to pot and keep. He feels silly about being
seen hunting a flower in the middle of the night,” Ralph said, “And he’s very
sorry to have alarmed anyone.” “Fer Pete’s sake, Ralph. A romantic
gesture?” “Yep. He’s pretty goofy about her,
you know?” “He’s a model for us all,” said Rick,
laughing now. “In a way, it’s a good thing those guys called him some kind of a
bear. Made life easier for me. Whoever heard of a Squatch being called a Honey
Bear?” “New to me, Rick. I thought it was
kind of cute.” Rick took their mugs out to the
kitchen nook and filled them again, to wash away the momentary awkwardness
between himself and his friend. “Did she like the flowers?” said
Rick. “She loved them so much that she
cried a little. But, I’m not sure Trillium are really suited for living in a
pot. But it might work next to the Alder Tree House. “Did I ever tell you about the tree
spirit I pulled out of a dead fir and sent over there to live in a young alder? “Well, anyhow, I think she might
keep an eye on that pot of Trillum flowers. Stranger things have happened,”
said Ralph. “You didn’t, but I believe you,” Rick
murmured.
“Toots, what do you think it means
to wish upon a star?” said Suzy one long night, from under the bed. “Oh, hi. I hear you,” Toots said
from her secure location in the lumber rack. “Why do you ask?” “It’s a song I heard playing from
the desk. It said, ‘When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are.
Anything you heart desires will come to you.’” Suzy sort of whispered. “I sort of wondered if that might
work for cats.” “I’m sure it works for thinking
cats. I can’t speak to all cats. Let me think,” said Toots. “OK. I think what I’ve
heard is that if you look at a certain star and say, ‘I wish I may, I wish I
might, have this wish I wish tonight,’ or something like that, that it’s
stronger than just thinking your wish. Like saying the words is stronger? I don’t
know,” said Toots. “How is that different from Purring™”
said Suzy, still hiding. “Maybe they come from the same place
in the heart,” said Toots. “Are you still hiding from those juvenile Tomcats?” “Yes, but not as much. I have to
come out to eat sometimes,” said Suzy. “Aw, what’s your heart’s desire,
Honey?” said Toots very kindly. “I wish the boys would leave me alone,
or at least show some respect. I’m not a toy, or a prey animal! It’s not
dignified to have to run for cover at my age!” said Suzy. “So, you were thinking about wishing
on a star?” “Well, yeah. I wondered if it might
work.” “I have an idea!” said Toots. “How
about if we pick a star and go ask in person? Would you like to?” “Oh! Could we do that?” said Suzy. “How
can we pick a star?” “I’ve heard the name of one. I hear
stuff all the time. There is one called Proxima Centauri. I think that means it’s
the closest to us. So, if we think about it together, I believe we can visit it
together,” said Toots. “Want to try right now?” “OK, lead the way!” mrrred Suzy. “OK. Let’s both say Proxima Centauri
at the same time and hold that thought,” said Toots. In a mere twinkling of a cat’s
whisker, Toots and Suzy found themselves in dark space looking down on a star
just ahead of them. It was a lot like the sun, but not quite. Might have been
bigger, or a slightly different color. “I’m a little afraid, Toots,” said
Suzy. “Remember that the parts of us that
can get hurt are not here. It’s just our minds,” said Toots. “Let’s get closer.” Proxima Centauri loomed closer until
it looked like what it was, a huge ball of some kind of fire burning away
there, suspended in space. “OK, now might be the time to wish
upon this star,” said Toots, in an awed voice. “I feel silly now,” said
Suzy. “My problem with the kittens doesn’t seem very important.” “Well, try it anyhow,” said Toots. “I wish I may, I wish I might, have
the wish I wish tonight. I wish Booker and Sweetie would stop chasing me, and
treat me like a nice auntie or something,” wished Suzy with her mind’s eyes
squinched shut. Then they hung around admiring the
star and looking for planets. After a while Suzy said, “I think
the star told me something. It’s like a message from the star I think!” “What did it say?” “Wait. Be patient. They are big
children. Children grow up, and time will tell. Make friends with these
children,” said Suzy. “That’s a pretty good answer,” said
Toots. “The funny thing is, I knew that
stuff. But it’s hard to be patient when they rush me like they do.” “I’m not surprised. Many times, we
already know the answer. It’s just a matter of realization and getting with the
program,” said Toots. “So, patience, my Dear.” “It’s a pretty star. It was fun getting
so close to our closest neighbor star, but it’s nearly morning at our homes on
Earth, so let’s go back home, Toots, shall we?” So, together they said, “There’s no
place like home!” On about the third repetition, Toots
found herself back in the lumber rack. She was thinking about coming out of
hiding. Suzy found herself under the bed and
decided that it was time to find a little nibble out at the cat buffet in the
kitchen. Booker and Sweetie, slept on, in the
careless, zonked out manner of the teenagers they were.
It was a fine pickle Ralph found
himself in. He was in that rather middle-aged spot, so well-known by the
Hairless. Ralph was torn between his cheerful insouciant
appetite for all the good things of life, but also his desire to appear as he always
had, sleek, lithe, and breathtakingly powerful. Poor Ralph. And yet, somehow, an idea kept
tickling his mind. It was unformed but he was working on it. The equation
seemed flawed somehow. It seemed like Hairless mythological consensus of some
kind. It didn’t add up for Ralph. “I can talk their talk, but they can’t
walk my walk,” he said to himself. He hummed a kind of emphatic little tune,
then sang the words with it. He liked it. The planet rolled over a couple of
times. Ralph ate at home. Ramona didn’t bake biscuits, Thaga, being put in the
know, did not send over any of those 8 inch in diameter cinnamon rolls. Nobody said the words Honey Bear in his
presence, even if they thought of it and giggled. Ramona ran out of coffee. Ralph
really wanted a cup. He decided that this called for a
visit with Rick over at the station. That was really just about all, he didn’t
have any serious business to discuss with Rick, though he thought it might be
fun to hear the gossip in the camp about the huge brown bear that had made such
a ruckus in the campground a few days before. “Mona, my dear, I believe I shall go
see Rick and have some coffee while I am there,” he said. “Oh, nice,” said faithful Ramona. “Why
don’t you take a little run through the forest first?” “What an excellent idea,” Ralph said.
“That’s just what I will do, then loop around to the station.” Now, Ralph doesn’t thump the ground
like some of those guys you hear about. He has special hips, and special knee
joints, and his feet are made to land softly. So, when he took off, first up to
the big meadow, running past his log he made a splendid sight. His kingliness
in full display he slipped up the path. He took a loop near the Alder Tree
House, noting that they were indoors, so he didn’t stop. He ran through the woods to the
smaller, wilder meadow, pacing himself, until he got to Bob’s Stump House,
where he found Bob and Maurice working on a song about the mythical Honey Bear. “Why are you running, Ralphie,” said
Uncle Bob. “I’m on my way to see Ranger Rick,”
said Ralph. “Do you want to hear our new song?”
asked Bob. “Sure, I can stop for a minute. What’s
it about?” said Ralph. “It’s the Honey Bear Polka!” said
Maurice, starting right into playing it. “Hey, I know what,” said Ralph, “listen.” So, while Maurice played the tune to
the Honey Bear Polka Ralph sang, “I can talk their talk,” “But they can’t walk my
walk!” “That’s true, Ralphie,” sang Uncle
Bob, looking happy as heck. “Who can walk my walk?”
sang Ralph, while Maurice went for it! “I can walk my walk! “So, watch me walk!” “I know things they don’t!” “That was fun, Ralphie,” said Uncle
Bob. “Yes, it sure was! Now I gotta keep
going!” said Ralph and he headed out for the ranger station at a full smooth lope. Of course, he had to come up through
the forest, and check that the coast was clear before popping out from behind
the station dumpster. It looked wide open, so he slipped right over to the
door, knocked, and stuck his head in. “You there, Rick,” Ralph sang to the
tune of the Honey Bear Polka. “I’m right here, Ralph. Why are you
singing?” said Rick, seated at his desk. “Oh, Maurice and Uncle Bob started it.
It’s hard to stop it, once started.” “Fair enough,” said Rick. “Want coffee?” “Yessir, I do. Hey, anymore talk
about the big bear in the camp?” said Ralph. “Not much. Campers come and go. This
new bunch doesn’t know what happened. And the bear hasn’t been back. Hannah was
a little mad when she found out, but relieved that it was just you playing bear.” “Yeah, she probably didn’t like
being scared,” said Ralph. “I have cherry turnovers today!” Rick
said suggestively “What a lovely idea, I’ve never had
a cherry turnover,” said Ralph, grabbing a seat, while Rick brought him some
coffee in one hand, and carried the Tupperware box of turnovers out in his
other hand. When Rick got to where he could see
all of Ralph, he said, “What the heck happened, Ralph? Last time I saw you, you
had a belly like a pre-hibernation grizzly bear!” “Ah, Rick,” Ralph said, smiling like
the Buddha, “It’s good to be king of the Forest Giants!” “I have to believe what I see, Ralph,
but…” said Rick, just standing there. “What can I say?” said Ralph, taking
a little sip of Rick’s terrible Safeway coffee.
You know how it is. Suddenly, you
just notice something you hadn’t been noticing. Then suddenly, there it is. In
this case, it was Ralph’s tummy, and Ramona was doing the noticing. One early morning, just as she was
waking, she noticed a big round thing right behind her under the quilt. “Bear!” thought Ramona, as she leapt
out of bed. But when she looked back to the bed there was only Ralph. Rather a
lot of Ralph. In fact, he had gotten rather rotund in his middle. As she stood there studying his
tummy in the half light of their home cave, she wondered how it had happened.
Not much had changed. Well, maybe. He still went out hunting, or
fishing every day. He gathered firewood every day. Ramona just didn’t see how
he could grow a bear’s tummy when he was so hardworking. She thought about the food she
cooked. It was mostly fish, or soup, or eggs, or a roast of some kind. She thought
maybe it was the cooking that did it! Oh, dear! It had been a long many years
since they had eaten uncooked food like their ancestors. Ramona shuddered delicately, and
went outside to work on her fire. When Ralph woke and yawning, wandered
out to sit by the fire. It occurred to Ramona, looking at him, that an observer
might actually mistake her Ralph for a bear. Embarrassing. “Baby,” she said, “why do so many Hairless
men have such big bellies?” “Um. Beer? I don’t know for sure.
What are you saying, Mona?” he said looking down at his own mid-section. “Well, I hope learning to cook didn’t
make you look like one of them, Baby,” said Ramona. “I don’t really feel like eating
raw fish and meat and stuff, do you?” “I don’t either, really. Though we
could. Do you think it would help?” asked Ralph. “Can you think of anything else that
makes humans look like bears?” said Ramona, not tipping her hand. She’s like
that. “Maybe human food makes human
bellies, Mona. I just love that junk, but I do kind of look like a bear. Maybe
a Honey Bear!” he said, giggling. “Actually, I have an idea. Maybe when I go
see Rick, I should just have the coffee! Surely, coffee never made anyone look
like a bear, did it, Mona?” “I don’t see how it could,” she
said. “Well, I know it wasn’t your good
food. It was something else, and I think I know what. I’ll stick to coffee when
I visit Rick, and lay off snitching Doritos, sad as that is!” he said. “I hate it when I run and all this
jumps up and down. It’s not right. I’m supposed to glide!” “I know, Baby,” said Ramona. “I’ll
stop making biscuits, and you don’t eat all Rick’s goodies and in no time, you
will be just like you were before!” So, for breakfast they had coffee
and some eggs and a bit of leftover venison. Not a carbohydrate in the bunch!
“OK, Suz, dish,” said Toots, firmly.
“Just exactly what’s pulling your tail?” “Funny you should mention my tail,” said
Suzy. She was in full retreat under some unstated piece of furniture at the
time. “What’s funny about it?” inquired
Toots. “Well, it’s my tail. They don’t
actually pull it, but they sure do chase it, and Toots, they are so big now, I
just run and hide!” “I see. Have you considered standing
your ground?” Toots looked thoughtful. “I think the both of them would run
right into me. I don’t know? Maybe they think they could eat me!” said Suzy. “No, Honey. I understand that you
are dealing with a reflex that comes natural to me too. But I’m pretty sure it’s
a game for the big stupid kittens. I think that if you put your paw down firmly
and faced them without running away, well, where’s the fun in that for them. You
would suddenly become just a little old lady cat who wouldn't put up with their
foolishness. “I’ve heard the word dumheit used
around here. I think I get the sense of it. That’s what they’re doing and they
need a firm paw taken with them!” said Toots. “But, Toots, I don’t know how to
change my basic nature!” cried Suzy. “When those big strong, fast kids come
running at me, well thinking is over with. I turn tail!” “I like to think that I wouldn’t do
that. But I might. There are things on the cosmic breeze sometimes that make me
just hide until it’s over, whatever it is,” said Toots. “What I’ve been doing is screaming
as loudly as I can when one gets too close to where I have hidden,” said Suzy. “She
calls them out, and they back down. But it’s a temporary reprieve. Though
today, I had a nice quiet time in the bedroom with the door closed, and my own
bowl of food. She did that for me.” “I can feel that you feel there is
no solution, but maybe there is. You know what I’m thinking don’t you?” said
Toots. “Yeah, I do. We two are gathered
together, so it’s time to Purr™ about this. Maybe the Great Sire of all cats
will take notice of my dilemma, Toots.” “I’m sure of it, and I’m sure things
will improve. If nothing else, the Scouts will grow up and not be so silly,”
said Toots. “We should contemplate peace,” she
added. So the girls, each in her separate place,
so far from each other, shut their green eyes, put their noses down on their
forepaws and Purred together, as one, for peace between Suzy and the Bengal
Brothers.
So, Bill Erickson, Arlington High
School science teacher, stepped out of his RV to take the air a little. It had
gotten dark while he and April were in there making and eating dinner. While
smoking, he noted one other camping rig, and four tents. Seemed to Bill like a
rather cold time of year to be tent camping. Maybe they had their love to keep
them warm, he thought, amusing himself. He was just thinking about how
remarkably quiet it was in the mountains at night, when he heard rustling
behind one of the tents. It was the dark one, no light shone through the nylon. “What is that?” he asked himself and
listened closely. There were footsteps, but not the famous night time bipedal
steps one hears of. Nope. Shuffling, hesitant, definitely four-footed steps. Likely
a bear, Bill thought. Then he saw it, the doggone biggest
bear Bill had ever had the honor of being in the presence of. He held his
breath and considered bolting in to April and safety, but something made him
wait and watch. A huge ursine silhouette padded
around to the door side of the tent. It seemed as if the bear must have bitten
the zipper pull, for the next thing was that the door was unzipped and half of
the bear was in the tent. There was a bloodcurdling scream, and the bear beat a
quick retreat with a crinkly sounding bag of something in its jaws. There was
some more screaming, some masculine yelling, a lamp came on, and a man stood
outside the tent, hands on hips, before climbing back into his tent and
rezipping the entrance. Bill later swore, he heard laughter
as the bear hotfooted it back into the deep brush before the tree line. The next morning was a busy one for
Ranger Rick. There were two men waiting to see him
when he drove into the station parking area. He saw them before he parked, and
thought, “Here we go!” Bill, the older one, felt that it
was his duty to report a rogue bear in the area. Mike, the younger camper, wanted to
report a bear which had stolen his bag of Doritos and scared the beans out of
his wife, Louella. “Its big fat face was right there!” he said. Bill told Mike that he had heard the
whole thing, and said, “What were you laughing about after that?” “I wasn’t laughing,” indignant Mike
said. “I was the kind of mad you get after being scared silly!” “Somebody was laughing out loud, and
it wasn’t the bear!” insisted Bill. Rick took their reports cheerfully.
He said they had never had a bear cause serious trouble at Maple Heart Camp,
and that he would be on the lookout for the rascal! Most of that day, a Tuesday passed
without incident, after the morning reports. Bill and April decided to stick
around and give the camp another chance. It wasn’t their Doritos that went
missing, after all. Mike and Louella also decided that
they were no worse for the wear really and remained. There was more excitement Wednesday
morning. When Rick got to work, the lid of the dumpster was flopped back. Rick
repositioned it, then walked into his office. Hannah called Rick on his mobile. “I
woke up at midnight and was hearing something, so I looked out my kitchen
window, and there was a bear the size of a VW Bug walking right down the middle
of the campground parking area, Rick!” said Hannah, sounding just a bit edgy.
“A bear that big could do anything it wanted, and nobody could stop it, Rick!” “Oh, Hannah, are you sure you were
really awake?” said Rick. “I’ve never seen such an animal here and I’ve been
working here for twelve years.” He said soothingly. He grinned at the phone in
his hand. “If there is bear trouble, I’m out
of here!” she said, signing off. When Dexter got to the office, Rick
said, “You know who that bear was, right?” “Should I tell Hannah?” said Dexter. “Maybe you better,” said Rick. “Maybe
I should talk to Ralph.” Then, just as if his ears had been
burning, Ralph stuck his head in the office door. “Hey, Rick. Hey, Dexter,” he said.
“How’s it going? Any bears in the camp here?” He squeezed the rest of himself
through the door and took his accustomed seat. He smiled benevolently at both
men. “You blew your cover a little bit by
guffawing when you ran off with the Doritos. But it will blow over. Nobody will
believe him anyhow. He looks like he’s tripping,” said Rick. “Did you see the
crazy Fu Manchu whiskers on him?” “Oh, the smoker outside the RV?”
said Ralph. “I love Doritos. Can’t get enough. Milly brings me some sometimes.” “Nobody can get enough Doritos,”
said Rick, “that’s what’s wrong with them. Hey, did you ever catch up with our
original Honey Bear?” “Won’t happen again, Rick,” said
Ralph. “You sure?” said Rick, brightening
up. “Oh, and I think I muddied the waters
enough! Big brown bear in camp must equal Honey Bear in camp! Aren’t words fun?”
said Ralph with his fingers laced over his tummy and a big grin on his face. Rick still had most of his birthday
cake out in the kitchen nook. So, between the three of them they finished it
off, with lots of awful Safeway coffee. The cake was good. Chocolate with lemon
buttercream icing. Rick gave Ralph the candles to take
home to Ramona for fire starters.
Rick’s kind of an old-school guy in some
ways. So, this Monday morning, as he settled down at his desk, he had the
Monday paper in one hand and his coffee in the other. It was still nice and
quiet in the ranger station office. Dexter hadn’t appeared. All serene. Then he opened the paper, scanned
the front page type news, including the national catastrophes. He turned
the page, and began to read some local stuff. Ho-hum! One headline came at him like a bolt
out of the blue.
Honey Bear Sighted in Maple Heart Campground
Rick sat up straight! Maple Heart
Campground was right where he was sitting right that very second. This was news
to Rick, as well as to readers of the Milltown news. “What’s a Honey Bear, for Heaven’s
sake?” Rick asked himself. But he had a bad squirrely feeling in the very
bottom of his gut. He read on. The character who said he saw the
Honey Bear, was a farmer from flyover country visiting the PNW. Now, he didn’t
explain what one was, but apparently it was important enough to get ahold of
the sheriff’s dept and make a report. “But not me?” said Rick. He read on.
This sighting had occurred in the evening. OK. So, He hadn’t been in the
office. OK. Dexter arrived on lightly tripping
feet with a goofy look on his face. “What’s a Honey Bear? You got any
idea?” said Rick. “Um. Kid’s cereal?” said Dexter. “Nope. Some goober says he saw one Saturday
night in the camp here. It was enough of a big deal for him to call the sheriff’s
dept and make a report. You don’t suppose..?” said Rick, staring off into the
middle distance and feeling his sense of ease draining away. “You’re thinking that might be
farmer talk for one of these Forest People?” said Dexter, losing the goofy
grin. “Maybe you better talk to Ralph.” “Yeah, we know who’s really the boss
around here,” agreed Rick. Therefore, Rick went out to his
service vehicle, took a seat behind the steering wheel, and beeped out an SOS
on his horn, and then waited. In about 17 minutes Rick could see
Ralph standing right inside the tree line. He was gesturing to Rick to come to
him. OK. Rick piled back out and went into
the forest. “You got an emergency?” said Ralph. “Do you know what a Honey Bear is?
There’s a story about a Honey Bear sighting here in the camp in the paper this
morning. It doesn’t sound good. It sounds like some farmer was talking about
one of you guys,” said Rick. “It was two nights ago, so he says.” “Hm, that does sound suggestive,”
said Ralph. “I’ve never been called a Honey Bear, but you never know what these
old timers might come up with!” He was giggling, hugely, which is truly
awesome. “I betcha I know who it was. I told
him that the campground was off limits. OK, let me think.” Ralph leaned on a tree; Rick waited.
Maeve flew over but didn’t stop. “I know how to fix this, Rick. Tell
you what. I’ll make myself look like a big old goofy bear and tonight I will
raise enough of a ruckus in the campground that I will be seen. Problem solved.
It was a bear! Of course, it was a bear! Simple!” said Ralph. “The next thing I
will do is get ahold of who I think the culprit is and have a nice long talk
with him about blowing MY cover in addition to his own,” said Ralph. “Why are we standing in the trees?”
said Rick. “I just had a feeling, yanno?” said
Ralph. “I feel elusive today.” “Who am I to doubt it,” said Rick. “So,
you think that will work? Settle the public mind, the little dears?” “Remember, Rick, it’s always a bear.
No matter what they say they saw, no they d’n’t. They saw a bear! Just play dumb,
whatever you know!” “I can do that,” said Rick.
Assuaged, he went back to his office. He threw the paper in his wastebasket,
and got a fresh cup of coffee. “Everything OK,” said Dexter, who
had waited to hear the word from Ralph. “Pretty sure, might take a day or
two,” said Rick, opening his laptop and starting to poke around in it. Now, when Ralph got back home, in
the bosom of the Great Forest, he said hi to Ramona. She said “Hi, Honey,” and Ralph cracked
up. It took a couple of minutes for him
to settle down enough to explain.
You’ve all been very good sports. It’s
been a lot of fun, tossing quips back and forth and posting this and that. It’s
been quite a learning experience writing all those stories too.
It seems like a good time to say
thanks, here at the end of an old calendar year. As you may know, Rosh Hashanah
begins tonight at sundown. According to Chabad.org, it celebrates the creation
of Adam and Eve! Tradition, eh!
In addition to my thanks, I have a question.
Do any of you have any suggestions for the MEOW staff? What would you like to
see in the near future?
Also, I welcome contributions from
you readers!
But, most of all I wish you all the
very best, and I continue to pray that God blesses you. I also hope the weather improves, sincerely!
Well, as you know, Ralph has set a
perimeter around the Great Forest. It works on wandering humans, and other
creature that he has specifically banned for cause. However, it does not stop
animals from wandering in. Obviously, deer, bears, foxes, coyotes, wolves,
turkeys, and every bird of the air have free passage into or out of the Great
Forest. One foggy morning in the fall of
Cherry’s 8th year, Ramona and Cherry went over to the Silver River
to wash some bowls and to get some clean water. Ramona carried the bucket of
dirty bowls and Cherry carried a clean bucket. It was totally routine. While the girls were busy, Ralph
took the opportunity to visit his office, so to speak, for a period of
contemplating the Cosmos. Things were just getting good, and he was nearly
asleep when he heard a strange little sound. A ripple passed through the
Cosmos. The sound was pretty close, and
rather unfamiliar, though it sounded like an animal of some kind in distress.
He sighed and sat up, looking all around himself. Nobody could do any contemplating with
that little despairing call nearby. Ralph threw his feet down to the
forest floor and stood up. The sound became louder and seemed to come from very
nearby. In fact, so near that he looked at his own feet, and there it sat. It
was a small striped animal of the cat variety. The only domestic lions Ralph had
ever met was Thaga’s Harold, or Twigg's family of cats. This one was much smaller, maybe the size of a
potato, but with legs and tail, and ears and so on. Wandering immature kittens are
always a mystery. They appear randomly sometimes. And they don’t indicate their
origin in any way. “Where did you come from?” said
Ralph, bending over and picking the tiny mewling thing up in his very large
hand. He brought the little thing up to his face to examine it. Small green
eyes looked into his very large brown eyes confidently. Obviously, this was a situation for
Ramona to deal with. She would know what to do with this baby. When he got back down to the fire,
Ramona and Cherry were sitting there singing songs in the old language
together. Two pairs of eyes watched him approach. “Look who woke me up a few minutes
ago,” said Ralph. “Let me see,” said Ramona. “Is it a
cat? It’s awfully small.” “Yeah, I think so. It is awfully
small,” agreed Ralph, as he handed the baby over to her to inspect. Cherry looked from face to face, and
said, “Is it for us?” “I’m not sure,” said Ramona as she
held the baby to herself and stroked his little head with one forefinger. “I suppose
he’s hungry,” she said. "He's a boy." She didn’t have any milk or cream,
but they did have some leftover fish, so she minced up a little serving of
cooked fish and put it in a bowl with a little water, just in case the little
thing was thirsty. “Twigg already has a family of cats,”
said Ralph. “I know. Who else could use a kitty,
Baby?” “I have Blue,” said Cherry. “And
Thaga has Harold.” “I think I’ll take him to see Rick.
Maybe he needs a ranger station cat!” said Ralph. So, after the tiny guy was full of
fish and sleepy, Ralph picked him up and cradled him in his left elbow and took
off to find Rick. When he got to where he could see
the station door, he looked around and decided the coast was clear and slipped
over to the door, knocked, and went on into Rick’s office. “Hey, Rick, are you in here?” said
Ralph because he didn’t see him. “Yup. I’m in here,” Rick said,
coming out of the storage room with a can of Safeway store brand coffee. “Whatcha
got there, Ralph, old buddy?” Ralph held the little guy out to
Rick. “Seems to be a small tomcat, Rick. Do you need a station cat? This guy
woke me up when I was thinking. He’s loud!” Rick was just holding the little stripey
guy and trying to figure out how to say he didn’t need a station cat, not
really, when Dexter popped in the door. “Oh!” said Dexter. “Is it up for
grabs? Does it have a home?” “He,” said Ralph and Rick at the
same time. “He doesn’t have a home yet! He
found me when I was thinking, and woke me up a few minutes ago,” said Ralph. “I
completely don’t know where he came from!” “Can I take him to Hannah? Unless
you want him, Rick?” said Dexter, eyes wide. “Sure, I bet Hannah would like a
kitten,” said Rick. “We have two cats at home, and this one is free to go to
you and Hannah! That’s just fine!” Dexter took the little thing from
Rick, grinned like a ten-year-old, and took off at a run, banging the door and
vanishing up into the campground. “Well,” said Ralph, grinning himself. “There ya go!” said Rick. “Success!
Care for coffee, Ralph?” “Don’t mind if I do!” said Ralph,
settling down in the special big chair in front of Rick’s desk.
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