The Story of The True Cat, As Told by Aunt Julia

Willie, helping.

A Chapter from Mirage.

            To entertain Emmy, Julia decided to tell her a story. It was the story of the True Cat. It may seem strange to tell such a young child a story that way, but Emmy was an unusual baby and Julia knew it. As you have surmised, Julia knew a great number of things.

            “Long ago, Emmy, in a land far away by the sea, when language was growing and branching and becoming itself in many ways, there were three important words that I want to tell you about.”
            Emmy turned her shining dark little eyes on the old lady. Any child likes to hear a story. Even the two animals seemed to attend. We know Billy did.
            “These words are, troth, truth, and plight, in the sense of pledge. These may not seem related at first. But they are very old words. Usually, they are part of a marriage ceremony, even up to the present times. To say ‘I plight my troth’ means to promise on risk of being a liar or untrustworthy. This promise is made to a true love. That is a love in truth or in troth.
          "Well, Emmy, we have inherited these old English peoples’ language. So, we have to deal with it. We Indians came to the same conclusions by different means with different words. Now we borrow these meanings.
            "So, true love. But there is also another story. In every cat lover’s life, there is also a True Cat.”
            Billy looked wise and kept his own council, as this was a story he knew well.
            “A girl or a boy never knows how their True Cat will come to them. In fact, they usually don’t know there is such a thing until it happens. Sometimes a child is given a kitten by a parent or some friend, and the child and the cat grow up together. This might be a very true love.
            “Sometimes a kitten or a cat just comes to your door, and you let him in. In that case the cat has chosen you, and that is very special. You must never turn a cat away from your door for he or she may be your True Cat.
            “But then, sometimes when you are an older person, you will be walking somewhere minding your own business, full of all kinds of thoughts, and you will find in your path a cat or a baby kitten even that is in dire need of help. You must help. For this one likely will become your True Cat. If it needs a doctor, you must provide one. If it just needs food and shelter you can do all of that yourself. To help this creature that God put in your path is a very high calling indeed.
            “When you answer that calling you are pledging your honor or your truth, to love and care for the cat. Not in so many words usually, Emmy.
            “Now I will tell you how Billy came to me.
            “I had never been alone. All my life there were others. First a mother and father, then just my father. Then I got a husband. Then we were parents of two children. But children grow up and they must live their own lives. Soon my children became adults and left my home. Then John Chee, who had been my husband for so long weakened and died. Then, Emmy, I was alone most of the time. I gave his old truck to my son, Ben, because I never learned to drive. I probably should have, but I didn’t.
            “One day I asked my son to take me to Winslow for grocery shopping. In an alley beside the store there was a dumpster. I could hear some small cries coming from the dumpster. So, Ben and I opened it. Inside, in a plastic bag, was a small wet tabby kitten. He had been thrown away as if he were garbage. Thrown away alive! Well, you know what happened of course. I brought him out here. Then I set about mothering him.
            “First, I fed him a little. Then I gave him a warm bath and a good rub down with a towel. Then, more feeding. Then he was sleepy. I made him a nest by putting a folded towel in a square basket. Ben and I had picked up litter and canned kitten food, and a box for the litter, after we found the kitten, so that was taken care of also.
            “He never used his nest much. Only when I was up and busy. Most of the time he slept on my shoulder in bed when I slept. I hope this old story isn’t putting you to sleep, Emmy!
            “So, I was not alone then. I called him Billy because it seemed like a fine name for an Indian kitty. In time, I noticed as he grew, that he was an unusual cat. He watched out for me. He could hear and see things which I could not perceive. If someone walked near the house, he told me with gestures and by his expression. If my thoughts wandered down sad paths he knew and he came to me and he lifted my heart. He was in fact a Watcher; a sort of angel and he was my True Cat.”
            The old lady stopped speaking then. She sighed and smiled at the tiny girl asleep in her carrier. She patted Billy’s head as he sat beside her. Honda opened his eyes briefly. She smiled at him too and he went back to sleep.
            When the blue pickup drove back up the driveway no one was awake in the house. The slight rattle and engine noise didn’t disturb the sleepers at all.

💙

🐈‍⬛Reflections on Passing The Baton & The True Cat

 

            Like many of us, I have known a lot of cats! I believe I loved every one of them, though my appreciation has developed over the years. We always had cats at home, but my old man, being essentially a farmer, didn’t have pets in the house, neither cat nor dog. It’s a different kind of relationship when the animal doesn’t live in the house with you at least part of the time.
            I didn’t know any better. My first dogs, but not Layla, lived out of doors, and so did the cats. That seems very strange now. Now, I think what’s the use of having a cat or a dog if you don’t actually live with the creature?
            So, who is the True Cat? I think that primarily he is the cat who takes a personal interest in his human friend. It seems like he is on an assignment of his own choosing. I guess it takes perception to see that interest in a cat. I know there are people who think that cats are all the same, aloof, and maybe unloving.
            We know differently, of course. Each one of the little fur bombs is totally on his own little trip. Examples abound. Sweetie will move over if I ask him to. Booker will not. Either he doesn’t want to, or he doesn’t know what I’m asking for. Sweetie stays awake to be with me, Booker sleeps a lot and I often don’t know where he is. Like that.
            I think that one might have several True Cats over the course of a life. I loved Henry, who lived before Willie and Suzy, and was a wonderful creature, fine and beautiful, but I didn't know about the True Cat yet.
            After I wrote about Julia telling Emmy the story of the True Cat, I began to wonder if I had such a cat, a cat who is my personal friend. At the time, Willie was with us, and he sure fit the description. If I looked up, he was there. Most usually he was looking at me. He was a little bossy. He knew when it was bedtime and would make sure I knew too. He was a fine watchcat too!
            Ah, it’s hard to explain. But I remember many a night, here at the desk, with him on the pull-out typewriter extension, and he would be holding my right wrist, eyes closed. I had never known an animal like him. I know he loved me, but I didn’t know why. It was an experience of a type of grace. Maybe some of these guys are messengers?
            Now that Sweetie, and Booker of course, are about 11 months old, it seems like the assignment has been passed to Sweetie.
            He is a well-named cat.

💙

Cherry & The Bear! 🤎

 

            She stopped. There was a strange little cry, repeating. She looked all around, but didn’t see anything. She looked up. Something was about 80 feet up a fir tree, that is by our lights, 80 feet. It was dark, and seemed furry.
            “What are you doing up there?” Cherry said. She didn’t get an answer, just more crying. It wasn’t exactly clear who was up there either.
            What could she do? Naturally, being Cherry, after all, she drifted up the tree trunk until she was near the creature. It turned out to be a bear cub. Not very old.
            “Why did you climb up here, Bear,” she said, kindly.
            The cub, who had been crying and hanging on, with his eyes closed, opened his teary little eyes and looked at her. He was so shocked that he almost lost his grip on the bark.
            He closed his eyes again, and turned his head away.
            “Can you talk?” she asked.
            There was more crying, and tree clinging.
            “I think you should talk. Would you try please, Bear?”
            “Mama!” he blurted suddenly.
            “That’s a good first word, Bear. Everybody wants their mama. Especially when up a tree! Do you have a name, or don’t bears have names? I don’t know because I’ve never talked with a bear before,” Cherry said.
            “What’s a name?” said the bear cub, actually looking at her curiously at this point.
            “The sound your mama makes when she is calling you, maybe,” said Cherry.
            “Oh. Wruff. That must be my name,” he said, actually smiling a little.
            “How would you like to climb back down, Wruff?”
            “I’m afraid!”
            “Why?”’         
            “I’m lost. I’m hungry. I figured I would have to die up here,” said Wruff. “And I saw a big scary creature like you.”
            Cherry laughed. “You probably saw my father. He is very big, but not scary.”
            “What if he picked me up and ate me?” said Wruff.
            “Don’t be silly! I can’t help you find your mama if you stay up here,” she pointed out.
            Wruff lowered himself down a few feet. “Do you know where my mama is?”
            “No. But I bet she is looking for you right now. I bet she won’t be hard to find, but you gotta come down. Your mama is too big to climb trees to go looking for you!”
            He dropped down a few more feet. Cherry stayed right with him. So, he wouldn’t be scared. They worked they way down, bit by bit.
            About the time Wruff and Cherry were head height, for a Squatch, they heard a lot of commotion in nearby bushes. It sounded like an enormous animal on four feet.
            “Wruff! Wruff! Wruff!” the approaching voice called out sternly.
            “Mama!” said the cub, who let go entirely, and fell to the ground.
            “Oh! Where did you find him?” she said when she saw Cherry bobbing gently in the air above Wruff.
            “He was up in this tree here. I heard him crying to I went up to see,” said Cherry.
            “Well! Thank you, Ralph’s Child! Maybe now he will learn not to wander when I sleep!” said the mama bear, as she marched her son away. Cherry could hear some of what she was telling her son as they went off to wherever bears go when they go.
            “I’m glad you found him,” said Maeve, from a branch overhead. “She wanted me to search from the air.”
            “I never talked to bears before, “said Cherry.
            “Well, now you have, Ralph’s Child!” said Maeve.
            So, little platinum blond Cherry, standing in a bit of snow, smiled up at the great black Raven, who gave her a little wink, and a Raven smile.

🖤🐦‍⬛🖤

It's As Simple As Keeping a Fire!

 

            Ranger Rick had been watching some guys chat on a certain podcast. The subject matter, as you can well imagine, was dear to his heart. Naturally it was the mysterious race of Forest Keepers, those who officially do not exist.
            The guys were talking about handprints, greasy big handprints, face prints even. Apparently, this waxy grease is powerful stuff. Once, applied to a vehicle or a window, it stays, resisting all attempts to remove it. And, it can etch a surface!
            Now, Rick had been familiar with a certain family, Ralph and family, for some time. In all of that time he had never seen any ominous white handprints. He couldn’t remember one, on the dumpster, or his truck, or Dexter’s old Honda. No camper had complained to him about strange waxy prints either. It was a mystery to Rick.
            He needed to talk to Ralph. Ralph would know.
            Rick, made a mental note and went on with his business. Eventually, Ralph would appear.
            And he did. It wasn’t a week later when Ralph poked his head into the office, and then slid all the way in, adjusting his size a bit.
            “Ah, just the man I want,” said Rick, as Ralph got settled in the big chair in front of Rick’s desk.
            “I’m all ears,” said Ralph, glancing toward the kitchen nook.
            “Hang on, coffee coming right up,” said Rick. Ralph smiled encouragement.
            “What’s up, Rick,” said Ralph, holding his coffee mug in both hands.
            “I have a question. As usual, it’s because of something I saw online. Two guys talking about you guys, with all attendant mysteriousness. The thing that stuck out to me was a lot of discussion of big white waxy handprints left by some of you guys on cars and such.
            “Why don’t you leave big white handprints on every thing you touch? What’s going on here?” said Rick. “I figured you must know!”
            Assuming sort of a professorial expression, Ralph said, “Well, I guess you know that many differing tribes of Forest Keepers exist. Some live primitively. Basically, they don’t have fire. It really kind of comes down to fire. The real backwoods types have developed this coating to stay warm and dry, instead of relying on fire and shelter.”
            “Why are you different?” said Rick. “Fire, you said? How did that happen?”
            “I’ll tell you that story in a minute. When I was a child, I was just as waxy as one of those backwoods types! So were my parents, brothers and sisters.
            “Ramona’s family were not like that. She came from a long line of Firekeepers. They were not greasy, because they had fire! It sounds funny, but it’s the only difference that I can think of,” said Ralph.
            “So, Ramona built fires, and you stopped being coated with wax? It was that simple?”
            “Not quite. For a while she had to clean me up!” laughed Ralph. “What a production!”
            “They say it’s hard to remove!” said Rick.
            “She was pretty determined,” said Ralph. “She used to boil down pigs to get the fat. After it cooled, she would set me down and massage it all over me, to loosen the wax. Then I had to wait a while for it to work. Then she scraped it off as well as she could.
            “Then she would dig up a pile of Soaproot. This was before she knew Thaga, so no soap! Anyhow, she used to pound it and mix it with water, make a bunch of lather, then completely cover me with it, and work it in good. It took all day, Rick.
            “Then we went swimming and the river took it all, soap, grease, wax, all of it away. Then when I was dry, she combed me.”
            “I think I kind of quit making that stuff in self-defense, and I didn’t need it anymore, since she made fire and cooked food By the time Twigg was born, I couldn’t have made a greasy handprint if I wanted to!” Ralph said.
            “Ralph, you’re not making this all up?” said Rick.
            “Now, Rick, have I ever lied to you?”
            “No. But it sounds like a Just So story, you know?” said Rick.
            “Hey, Mona made some nut balls, a lot like Hannah’s, but with what she had. They turned out really tasty! She said to tell Hannah thanks for the idea and the samples,” said Ralph. “Rick, I might have telescoped the truth a little, but we live in mythic times, don’t we, old buddy?
            “Ah, it works for me, Ralph. We’re the same. Both of us. Somebody had to start making fires, and everything that came after. Sometime, somewhere, there was a first time,” agreed Rick.
            “We need myth. It makes sense of the unknowable,” said Ralph. “Got another cup of coffee out there?”
            “Yeah, there are some Oreos too. Did you ever have an Oreo?”
            “Nope!”
            “They are the physical manifestation of an ad campaign, Ralph,” Rick laughed. “Sweet enough to knock your hat off.”
            “I’ll take my chances!” said Ralph. He didn’t have a hat anyhow.
            Then Ralph took his mythical big old self back to the Home Clearing, laughing as he slipped behind the dumpster.

💚☕💚

🍁October 18, 2026, One of Those Open Threads🍁

 

We come in peace!

Believe us, truly!

Ask anyone. Ask the crows, as if!

However, we wonder if you have about you

Something worthy! 

A bit, a bite, of this or that?

Oh, anything, surely!

Please be assured of our gratitude!

Gulls are the most honorable of birds!

💙

💚Take A Few Nuts, & A Few Berries, etc.! 💚

 T

            It all started, like these things so often do, when Ralph emerged from behind the station dumpster, which rather strategically obscures his private trailhead. He made sure he wasn’t going to change anyone’s life by meeting them suddenly in the parking lot. Crunching through some thawed and refrozen grubby snow, he slipped on over to the office door. He didn’t hear anyone he didn’t know already in there, so he opened the door, ducked and stepped in.
            “You rang!” he called out. No one was visible at the desk.
            “You smell my coffee, Ralph? Howzit going?” said Ranger Rick, emerging from the kitchen nook with two mugs of the hot brown stuff.
            “Nah, but now that you mention it, I’ll gladly drink a cup with you!”
            “Good, then I don’t have to drink both of these,” said Rick, kicking his chair out a little with a foot and settling down.
            Ralph’s especially broad chair was over in the corner. He fetched it and sat down opposite Rick. “No special occasion. I just felt like stretching the legs and looking around, and I thought we hadn’t had a sit-down in a while.”
            “Things are pretty quiet. Not many come when the snow starts. I’m going to close the campground for the winter one of these days,” said Rick.
            “Are Dexter and Hannah going to stay in the mobile all winter?” said Ralph.
            “Probably not, they’d be up to their buns in snow!”
            And just as if the mention summoned him, Dexter came through the door, steadied himself, and went to hang up his coat and earflap hat. On his way by the desk he lay down a foil wrapped platter.
            The other element that comes into this story is the fact that Hannah possessed a nice Cuisinart food processor. You will remember that she maintains a blog dedicated to the development of recipes.
            Sometimes she tries recipes she has seen elsewhere, just to see if they are for real.
            “Whatcha got there?” said Rick.
            “I can’t tell you what the recipe is called. They’re kind of nut balls, with dates or something. Hi, Ralph. Keeping warm?” said Dexter.
            “Howdy, Dexter. Those sound interesting,” said Ralph.
            Dexter peeled off the foil to reveal the nut balls. There they sat, about the size of golf balls, and quite dark in color. There were 14 of them. They looked sort of like chocolate, but lighter in color.
            “Check ‘em out. I haven’t even had one yet,” Dexter said as he vanished into the coffee pot area and came back with a mug.
            Conversation ceased for a while, being replaced by quiet munching. Each man ate three before speaking again.
            “They looked a little ominous, but are very good. She used walnuts, didn’t she?” said Rick.               Dexter agreed. He looked proud.
            “The recipe called for dates, but she had a bag of figs, so she used those, and the walnuts, some coconut oil, some other stuff, and cacao powder. That’s why they look almost like chocolate. They’re not cooked, she just made everything into a paste with her processor.”
            Ralph finished off his coffee, and said, “These taste like something Ramona would be interested in. I could eat them every day.”
            “Why don’t you take the rest home to her?” Dexter wrapped the 5 remaining in the foil and gave the packet to Ralph. “Hannah will be happy you guys liked them!”
            “Tell her thanks from me!” said Ralph. Then he said goodbye and he’d be back before spring, and laughed because it would likely be several times before spring.
            Outside, he glanced up toward the campground, didn’t see anybody, then he slipped back behind the big green dumpster, and hit the trail back to Ramona carrying the foil packet carefully in one big hand.         
            He carried it right down to Ramona, who was toasting her toes by her fire, and playing with Cherry’s hair. She was making little short braids in the blond curls just for fun. Cherry was beginning to present a rather branchy effect.
            “Wow, Cherry, you look great like that!” said Ralph when he saw what the girls were doing. “Hey, Mona! Hannah made these nut things and I thought you might want to taste them. Maybe you could do something like this!”
            “Interesting! Let me try one,” said Ramona, receiving the foil package from Ralph, who was grinning hopefully.
            So, Ramona tasted and approved the nut things. Cherry did too. Then Ramona got to thinking of how to make something like that without a food processor. It could be done, though it would take a deal of work.
            She had seen her mother pound nuts to a pulpy mass with a moderately long piece of wood in a wooden bowl. Ramona though her big pot would work for the bowl. She had a store of wild hazelnuts left over from fall, and dried blackberries.  She also had a little butter. But she didn’t have the chocolate-colored powder. Maybe she could get some from Thaga.
            While she was cracking a couple of pounds of hazelnuts, she whistled for Maeve and asked her to please go see if Thaga had some powder like that. Ramona wasn’t sure what to call it.
            “Be right back,” said Maeve when she had the situation explained to her.
            Ramona dumped the shelled nuts into her big pot, pounded them to bits with a longish piece of a dry branch, then added a good number of dried blackberries, a pinch of salt, and a lump of butter the size of an egg. Then she pounded the whole collection into a mass.
            When Maeve returned, she had a small paper bag in her beat. She gave it to Ramona and said, “Thaga called it cocoa powder. She said it’s quite bitter without something sweet to flavor it.”
            Ramona tasted the cocoa and agreed. So she put maybe about a cupful in her pot with everything else, but added some of her stash of honey to it so, then pounded some more.
            She tasted it, with Maeve and Cherry watching, and decided it was good.
            So, Ramona, assisted by Cherry rolled the pasty mixture up into balls. Ramona’s were round, and Cherry’s were kind of like eggs.
            They filled three of the wooden bowls with them. They looked a lot like the balls that Hannah had made and Dexter had sent with Ralph.
            “Hey, Baby!” said Ramona, after she was all done. “Would you like to taste these nut balls?”
            “Of course, Mona!” said he. So, Ralph sampled one of Ramona’s nut balls. Then he went back to one of Hannah’s and tasted it. They were both very good. He smiled at her, and said, “I like yours better, sweet Mona! They are wilder. The taste like the whole Great Forest, all wrapped up in a little ball, with some cocoa added to make them exotic!”
            Maeve tasted both, and agreed that Ramona’s tasted much more like the Forest.
            They all ate so many nut balls that they were quite full, and didn’t think about dinner until later. But Ramona went ahead and made some potato and onion soup anyhow, just to finish up the day nicely.

🌲🍁🌲

You Gotta Give It To The Cats

 

Sweetie, engaged.

For they live in the moment.
For their needs are few.
For they are not technologically inclined.
           
            I know that heretofore I have not discussed things with the Scouts much. Perhaps it’s time for a few questions. We shall see.
            “Booker?” I said one day, “What is best in life, so far anyhow?”
            “Exploration, naturally,” said he. “We’ve done the easel. Easy, peasy.”
            “What’s next?” I inquired.
            “Brother is interested in light fixtures with fan blades. He believes that they have potential,” he announced.
            “True,” said Sweetie, who had just entered the interview area near my desk. “However, for a few days I have been working on climbing straight up walls. It’s harder than it looks. There is some mysterious force that grabs me and pulls me back down!”
            “That force is our opponent,” said Booker, very seriously.
            “Well, kids, I have to tell you, we all deal with that force in one way or another. Usually, you end up just facing facts. It’s there,” I said.
            “Hey,” said Sweetie, “What’s outside of those doors? There are several rooms here. Is outside made of more rooms, or is it something different?”
            “Do you remember coming here when you were tiny?” I said. “Do you remember the car ride and how far we traveled to bring you here.”
            “I remember that cage mostly,” he said. “Where we outside then?”
            “Outside, but in a little travel cage, inside of a car,” I said. “Outside is very big. It is made of mostly open space, but with many rooms inside that open space.”
            “When I look out of windows I have many questions,” said Sweetie. “I see things that move through the air and make odd sounds, and my soul desires to catch them. Why is that, Mama?”
            “Those creatures are birds. It is your nature calling you. Nature calls all of us, for better or worse, dear love.” He looked at me then with the face of an angel.
            “You are beautiful, both of you,” I said.
            “What is beautiful?” said Booker, for he is the philosopher of the pair.
            “Ah, now there is a question. Both weighty and light. We know it when we see it, but have a very hard time describing it. Perhaps, it’s enough to say that beauty is pleasing to the eyes of the beholder.”
            “I like everything!” said Sweetie. “All of it. I really like the fridge!"
            “We don’t like the squirt bottle!” said Booker.
            “That’s just a little reminder to leave Suzy alone. Maybe if you stop sticking your noses down there and looking at her so much, she’ll come out more and not be such a baby,” I said. “I’ve never actually hit you with the water!” I laughed. “You guys sure jump!”
            “We can’t figure out what she’s doing down there,” said Sweetie.
            “Hiding from you, obviously,” said I.
            “So, what do you think about your toys?”
            “We like the wheel best. Then the long tube, next, that’s fun. The thing where you used to hide treats, is silly. Not very mysterious,” said Sweetie.
            “Really, the whole house is yours to play in,” I said. “Enjoy!”
            “Those little things that spin around under a cloth were pretty good for a while,” said Booker.

            "I noticed that their charm wore off. We'll have to see what else is available.
            “Well, I really appreciate what nice guys you two are, thank you!” I told them. “Just remember not to bug Suzy. OK?”
            “OK!” both said, just as seriously as you would expect. I know they mean well. They went off to climb the cat tree and stare out the back window.
            “Are they gone yet?”
            It was Suzy. She peeked out, looking both directions.
            “Nope, old girl. They’re still here. You’ll just have to deal with it!”
            And so, it goes.

Meow!

😻💙😺💙😸

Purrsday Greetings for October 15, 2026

             The photo is from a file called Leaving Tulalip. We were loading up for maybe the last time. This leaf fell on the old Honda we had at the time. It's a scan of an old print. Before that year, I had never touched a computer. There was no cell phone. Life was so very analog.
            It was the year 2000. We were moving to town, to have more room for daughter and grandchildren to live with us. It was leaving one world for another.

            Sometime around 2001, my son gave me an old Win 98 box and my husband hooked me up to the internet. My eldest daughter thought that was cute, and that I might write some emails.

            Thereafter was the same course so many people have taken, leaving the old way.  But, I'm still me and I know what I know. I had never written a story, just some bits of free verse.

            I hope that your day is everything you could hope for!

🍁💚🍁

A Most Welcome Surprise From Out of The Blue

 

            Just like the last time, this time, late fall, Ooog thought he had better check the mailbox. He hadn’t done it for a few days. They got almost no mail, but once in a while something would be in the box. This was one of those times.
            Ooog is pretty short, so working his way through two feet of snow was a chore.
            When he opened the mailbox and peered in, he found one envelope. But this time it was directed to Uncle Bob, care of Ooog and Thaga, not Ralph. It proved to be from Maurice.
            This did present a bit of a problem. How to get it out to Bob and read it to him. He was thinking on it, when Thaga said, “Why don’t we get Maeve to invite Bob and Suzy over here? Maybe Ralph and the crew too?”
            Ooog thought that sounded doable. So, the next thing to do was wait until Maeve checked in, which she usually did most days, same as she did with Millicent Price.
            And just like she knew somehow that they wanted to see her, Maeve appeared at their window a couple hours later. She tapped on the window with her beak until Thaga noticed her and opened the door.
            “Just the lady we wanted to see,” said Thaga.
            Arrangements were made for Maeve to invite Uncle Bob and Suzy and also Ralph, Ramona and Cherry to the house the next day for a soup lunch and letter reading.
            The next day was clear and bright. A chilly wind blew through the Great Forest, as if something was afoot, and actually, it was.
            Bob and Suzy tromped down through the frozen snow to the Home Clearing and then all of them together, came traveling single file out of the woods toward the stone cottage. They presented quite a sight. Ralph broke the path, followed by Bob. Then Ramona and Suzy followed with Cherry drifting by her mother’s elbow. Blue and the pumas brought up the rear. Some might have considered it a fearsome sight, but not so. There was much laughter, and curiosity about Maurice’s letter.
            When everyone had stomped the snow off of their feet and had been invited inside, Ooog said, “I’ll read the letter first. Then we can sit around and eat soup. Please sit!”
            So, everybody took a seat around Thaga’s big table, the animals sat as animals do, on the floor.
            The letter:
 
Hi Bob, and everyone. I bet Thaga is reading this to you, but maybe Ooog is.
 
            I know I left kind of suddenly. I didn’t take time to explain. But everything came together so tight and neat that I didn’t even think of saying anything to you! I’m still interested in playing music with you. Don’t worry.
            Mable is kind of magic. I met her in her Buick when I was leaving MO. She picked me up when I was hitching. I just thought she was a nice old lady. Then I met another nice old lady when I was busking in a park. Then, she appeared on Smith Island, and brought me to the Forest. I still thought she was a very nice, magic, old lady. She’s funny that way.
            Then after that thing with the witch and Ralph rescuing me, I was afraid to be alone in the old farmhouse. But walking home one night I heard a voice singing to me. And I didn’t feel so alone anymore. That was her too. But I didn’t know it yet.
            Later, I followed her home in the snow and found out that she was Mable in the form of a white Howler. Maybe she is an angel. She doesn’t say.
            I can’t stand the snow. It’s too cold for me. We didn’t have that where I was born. Howlers don’t handle cold very well. So, we left.
            The Buick is magic too. I bet it could look like anything she wanted it to.
            We went back to see Sneaky and Joseph at their house. They are very well, BTW, and the Howler Frozen Custard shop is doing very well. Folkie Joe is richer than ever. He drove over to see us when we were there. He married his housekeeper, just like I said he should.
            We went to Arizona. Joe gave us some money for a B&B, and we pretend to be Armenian together. I think that was the funniest thing I ever said, BTW, telling that old lady I was Armenian. We are waiting for spring.
            I am working on new tunes! Mable is a pretty good singer. Maybe we could all work together! How about that?
            I love all of you, I miss you, but I am not alone, and I am happy!
            Maurice, A True Howler who will see you in spring!
 
            The letter was an absolute hit. Bob shed a couple of tears because he was so touched and he had never gotten a letter before. He took it with trembling fingers when Ooog handed it to him. Suzy was very proud too.
            The soup was bean with bacon and lots of garlic and onions, and some tomato sauce made of Ooog’s own tomatoes. Thaga also made cornbread. There were loads of butter and berry jam. After that no one thought of dessert, not even a little.
            The pumas were not great fans of bean soup, but they ate some to be polite. Blue was a fan though.
            Bob gave his letter to Suzy for safekeeping.
            Cherry helped Thaga by gathering up the dishes and putting them into Thaga’s sink, then she wiped the table off.
            Everyone hugged everyone else.
            Outside the weather had changed during lunch. The sky was white and perfect feathery snowflakes were falling, and spring seemed quite a while away, as they walked home through that peculiar silence that happens when snow is falling.
            But spring always comes, doesn’t it?

❄️💙❄️

From The Annals of The Great Forest

 


            She couldn’t believe was she was seeing. She dropped down out of the sky to get a better look.
            What Maeve saw was Uncle Bob and Jim the bison in close conversation with an enormous person, not right by Bob’s Stump House, but out in the snow-filled meadow. Maeve shivered. She had an ominous feeling, but she wasn’t sure why.
            She needed to talk to Ralph.
            Off she went, low and fast, tree top level, over the frozen field until she entered the Forest, heading for the Home Clearing.  
            First, she smelled Ramona’s fire, then coming down out of the canopy of firs, she could see that the family were gathered around the fire. The snow never gets very deep in the Home Clearing, but there was enough to look and feel like winter. The Great Forest is very much a four seasons kind of place.
            Once landed, she said, “Good morning, Boss. Oh my! There is something funny going on up in Bob’s meadow.”
            “I bet you don’t mean funny haha, do you?” said Ralph.
            “I’m worried about Bob and Jim, Boss,” she continued. “There is something out there with them! It’s bigger than you! I got a kind of sick feeling when I saw them with this creature!”
            “What kind of creature, Birdie?”
            “Looked mostly human, but too big! Too big! Fully fee fi fo fum big! I can think of no reasonable reason for it to be there,” she said. “It’s going to get hungry, then what!”
            “Eww!” said Ralph. “That’s right. More to the point, how did it get in here? I believe this bears looking into. Hm.”
            “You gotta be careful this time, Boss,” said Maeve.
            Ramona sat looking from Ralph to bird and back again. At last, she said, “This is something new. Size isn’t everything, but it is a thing. You must go very aware, Baby.” Her hands were folded in her lap. Her expression was serious.
            “We shall see, Mona. I won’t let the creature eat me. I need to find out what sort of creature it is, how it got here, and why it’s here.”
            “Do you want to come along, Birdie?” he said.
            “Yes, do,” said Ramona. “Cherry and I, and the wolf and the cats will be fine.”
            So, Ralph headed for the small meadow, with Maeve flying overhead. Once outside the clearing the snow was deep. Up to Ralph’s knees. He plunged through it effortlessly.
            Only Suzy was present at the Stump House. She sat beside her fire on a smooth big rock, looking anxious.
            “Greetings, Firekeeper,” Ralph said formally. “Where are they?”
            “Further along, Forest Lord. Just keep going as you are,” said Suzy. “You can’t mistake them. The giant is all too visible, Sir.”
            “I thank you,” he said and kept walking. Maeve was above, always faithful.
            As he walked, he sang a song, deep and far-reaching, called Let Truth Be Revealed.
            Presently, he saw a great grizzled head with dirty red hair above the vegetation and saplings of the meadow. He sighed. He continued on until he met Uncle Bob, and Jim, in conversation with a tremendously large person, working away on a huge instrument like a banjo.
            “Greetings, Bob, good morning, Jim,” said Ralph. “Who’s your friend?”
            The giant stopped playing and regarded Ralph with speculative light blue eyes, set deep in a grubby face, with a lot of shaggy red whiskers and flabby cheeks.
            “Oh, hi, Ralphie! Look, we found a musician, or he found us,” said Bob. “His name is Myron. Well, Jim found him sitting on a log. Then we got to talking about making a band.”
            “We do need a musician,” said Jim. But he looked a little worried.
            “I am Myron, who are you?” said Myron from way up in the air.
            “I am Ralph. I’m kind of in charge around here, you might say,” said Ralph, saying it. “I have a couple of questions. That good with you?”
            Maeve circled overhead, sharp ears listening to every word.
            “Fine with me, Ralph,” and he laughed a big echoing laugh.

            "How did you come to be among us?" said Ralph.
            “I walked. Oh, I noticed your keep out rule, but I stepped over it” Myron chortled. “Betcha that’s a first, your majesty.”
            “You speak rightly, Ralph is King here,” said Bob, looking a bit wary.
            “It is so,” said Ralph. “Now, Myron, where are you from?”
            “No one place. I come from roaming to and fro. I was born in a cave in the hills above Darrington, as they call the sad little town,” said Myron.
            “I see. Now, why did you come here to our gentle kingdom? What drew you here?”
            Visibly reluctant, Myron said, “I was hungry. I came to charm creatures worthy of my appetite, with my music. The female creature gave me food, but it was so little. I am famished, still,” Myron sort of gurgled, drooling a bit into his beard. A sort of foul stench rose up around them all. “You look meaty, majesty!” he said, giggling.
            “Hold!” said Ralph. The meadow went silent, waiting. “Let the Maker of All reveal truth,” said Ralph, in a terrifyingly deep voice, so low it was just about subliminal.
            “I know no Maker,” said Myron, gurgling and yukking it up. But then something changed. His over-sized instrument fell onto the log he had been found sitting on and it broke in half.
            “ARGH!” yelled Myron.
            Jim moved behind Ralph. Uncle Bob watched with his mouth hanging open, speechless.
            Then Myron stood before them, revealed, about the size of a large rabbit. His plaid coat had shrunk down to a size to fit a large rabbit too. His red hair bristled. He screamed, in a rage.
            “Much as I suspected,” said Ralph. “Your kind are not allowed here. Go back to your hole in Darrington, Plaidie, no matter what your name is.” In a trice, he stood before them no more.
            “Sorry about your musician, guys. He would have eaten you both. Giants, even fake ones, are greedy above all things,” said Ralph. “Lucky for you, you have no gold to steal! I sure wish Maurice would come back.”
            “Thanks, Ralphie,” said Bob with tears in his eyes. “I wish Maurice would come back too. I miss him so much, and Jim has never even met him!”
            “Your head really does work good,” said Jim, coming out of hiding behind Ralph. “How did you know?”
            “I didn’t really know, until I looked at him. What a fake. I wonder how he got that way?” Ralph laughed. “Maybe we’ll never know!”
            “You better fix your law up a little, Boss,” said Maeve, who had come in for a landing.
            “I can see that. The next scoff-law could be an elephant! Who knows,” said Ralph.
            Then, Ralph and Maeve, Bob and Jim all went back to tell Suzy all about it. She was very relieved to see that each of them was living and well. She was pleased to hear of the vanquishing of Myron the fake giant.
            “Keep working on the songs, Bob and Jim. I would bet that Maurice will be back when spring comes. He doesn’t do well in snow, like we do,” said Ralph.
            “Thanks for not letting him eat me,” said Jim.
            “Any time,” said Ralph.
            Maeve rose back up into the air, and Ralph walked back to the Home Clearing with a story to tell Ramona and Cherry, not to mention Blue, Bob and Berry.

💚👑💚

A Lot of Mileage & Open Thread

 

            The spots are large on his side, so that's Sweetie, the pounciest member of the troop.

            They have this tube toy thing. A big deal for them is to drag their noisy, wiggly toys inside the tube and then, then, deal with them in the enclosed space. I tried to get more and better shots, but they move pretty fast, and you get pics of a tail disappearing down the tube. Maybe I should post that too.

            Suzy is doing better now that she has her own private accommodations. Ahem. She is eating well, and rounding out!

            I know everyday around here is a mewing day, hope it's a  happy one for youall!

💙😻😺😸💙

A Literal Giant

 

            Maybe there’s some kind of reversal thing going on here. Maybe, just maybe, if a person, speaking loosely, of course, is above a certain height, Ralph’s strictures on admission to the Great Forest are of null effect.
            Something must explain what happened that day.
            Myron. Big Myron. That’s who I’m talking about, in this circuitous fashion. He was big, he was ugly, which of course is a matter of opinion. However, there is no record of anyone, not even his mommy, saying he was pretty.
            I suppose I should give some statistics. He was a good 14 feet from stem to stern. His eyes were green, his hair would have been red, had it been clean. His complexion was greyish pink. He looked like a, very large case, of poor oxygen perfusion in the tissues. I suspect that his breath was foul.
            He was born outside of Darrington, WA. In a cave.
            He fee fi fo fummed his stupendous way right into the smaller rougher meadow where Uncle Bob, Aunt Suzy, and now Jim, abode.  

            Myron was a singer, and played a mean, very large banjo.
            Hence, when he arrived in the snowy meadow, he found a nice place to sit on a fallen log and began to pluck his banjo. His feet were two feet deep in snow. Didn’t care.
            When who should appear but Jim, fresh from hanging around, eating cold grass, and being nice.
            Jim looked up at Myron sitting there, and said, “Who the heck are you?”
            “Behold, I am Myron,” said Myron, taking a break.
            “You have a very big head,” said Jim. “Much admire!”
            “You have a very large head too,” said Myron, and thereby their friendship was sealed.
            “By the way, what’s to eat around here, Jim?” said Myron.
            “Well, I eat grass. Are you, by chance, a vegetarian?” said Jim. He could see some bad potential here if the friendship didn’t develop right.
            “Nah. I’m lookin’ to eat some kinda flesh,” said Myron. “That’s what that fee fi fo fum thing is about.”
            Myron began plucking the strings again in the chilly morning air.
            Jim thought this was a good time to sing along.
 
                        I run like thunder,
                        Like mama said,
                        I am Jim,
                        With a big hard head!
 
            “That’s not too bad,” said Myron. “Have you considered forming a band?”
            “Me n Bob would like to, but we needed a musician. He’s a song writer. But you need at at least one musician to have a band, doncha?” said Jim, with furrowed bison brows.
            “Where is this Bob, song writer?” said Myron.
            “Walk this way,” said Jim.
            “I can’t really, I only have two feet,” said Myron. “But I can follow you. Are we going to see Bob?”
            “He lives in a house made in a stump with Suzy,” said Jim. “There was a musician. I never met him. Harmonica. Blues guy. But he’s off on a honeymoon or something.”
            “You amaze me,” countered Myron. “Was his name Maurice?”
            “Something like that, yeah. Liked Cream, I hear.”
            So, Jim followed his own trail through the disturbed snow back toward the Stump House, and Myron stumped along behind him playing a tune suspiciously similar to Washington Square. It didn’t take long. Soon they could see smoke rising from the area outside, but near, the big stump. Upon closer inspection, since he was so far up in elevation, Myron saw Suzy doing something over the fire.
            “I see somebody over there. Like a woman, all hairy,” said Myron.
            “Suzy. Bob’s Firestarter, I mean Keeper. She makes burned food for him.”
            “That’s called cooking,” said Myron. “I like her already. Fee fi fo fum time!!”
            “Meh. I like grass. Mama said to eat grass, so I do.”
            When Suzy caught sight of Myron following Jim, she started yelling, “Bob, come out here! I need you!”
            Bob stumbled out of the Stump House. He took in the scene quickly.
            “Oh, hi Jim. Who’s your friend?” he said. He was looking at the big banjo Myron carried.
            “Myron, a literal giant. He’s hungry and he’s a musician. Can we keep him? We need a musician for the band!”
            “Hi, Myron. I guess we better audition you. But first, do you want to be in a band?”
            “I do. And I am hungry,” said Myron. He began to rapidly pluck the strings playing one of his own compositions.
            “I like it,” said Bob. “Maybe we can do business.”
            Suzy had a cold left-over haunch of young buck, so with that for Myron, and a few of the fish she was just baking over the fire, everyone got some breakfast.
            “What shall we call the band?” said Bob, after breakfast.
            “How about The Big Head Revue,” said Jim, sticking to his main point always.
            “What about Bob Jim & Myron?” said Myron.
            “Let’s think on it for a couple of days,” said Bob. “OK?”
            “Is there a handy cave around here somewhere,” said Myron. “I like to sleep in caves.”

❄️👹❄️

🐈‍⬛Emergency Purrvention™🐈‍⬛

           

Detained!

          

            “Suzy, are you here?” said Toots. “You know we all love you and we want to help.”
            “I’m here. I don’t understand. Help me with what?” said Suzy.
            It was evening. Toots was relaxing in the shop with Sammie. Booker and Sweetie were listening in, elbowing each other. They were snickering.
            Charlie was monitoring. So was Mr. Baby, and even Serena. Buddy had been called too, and was attending.
            Some new Purrvention™ members were Roger, Winston, and Gravy, the Black Three. New to the group.
            “I still don’t know why you called this meeting, Toots,” said Suzy. “Is it somebody’s birthday?”
            “Suzy… You’re prevaricating, Dear,” said Toots. She sighed.
            “I don’t know what one of those even is, Toots,” said Suzy, evasively.
            “You pooped under a chair!” chortled Sweetie.
            “You did!” agreed Booker. “You peed too!”
            “Is this true?” said Buddy. “Why didn’t you just call out, instead of pooping? That’s what I do! I always get help too! It works, you should try it!”
            “She did it 15 times,” said Sweetie. “We tried to tell, but they don’t understand a word we say! What did they think we were yelling about, the weather?”
            “We listen, and we don’t judge,” said Sammie.
            “Oh, fine. What was I supposed to do? I kept trying to tell her, but she just kept typing and didn’t listen!” said Suzy. “Using the box is a very vulnerable time in a girl’s life, and in all Catiousness™ I couldn’t allow myself to be that vulnerable with those two rounders running amok in the house!”
            “What’s a rounder?” said Gravy, a very large cat, gruffly.
            “A wild thing that does whatever it wants, and gets spoiled rotten for it!” said Suzy.
            “Hear, hear,” said Serena, giggling.
            “Speaking of spoiled,” said Toots. “I hear that a new private box is being provided for you under the desk in splendid seclusion! We, who listen, and I might add, don’t judge, expect you to use it and be grateful, Suzy. Are you hearing me?
            “Additionally, I hear that the squirt bottle has been deployed in your defense, Dear,” said Toots.
            “Here’s the deal, Suzy. The kids don’t mean to hurt you. Be reasonable. But we understand. Arrangements have been made for your comfort. Now, do your part. Use the new box which will be conveniently placed near your place of seclusion. It will be no further away than the spot you were befouling. In fact, it will be even closer. Do your part!” said Mr. Baby, from the home where he was visiting the Black Three.
            “Sweetie?” said Toots. “What say you? Do you understand that the new stainless steel kitty box under the desk is for Suzy? Will you allow her some privacy?”
            “Booker? How about you?” said Toots.
            “We promise, Scouts Honor, to leave Suzy alone. Pretty much. Though we can’t understand why she doesn’t want to run and pounce with us. Jeez!” said Sweetie.
            “Yeah, if he says so,” said Booker.
            “Suzy?” said Toots.
            “I promise to use the new box under the desk,” said Suzy.
            “And?” said Toots.
            “I will Try To Understand and be patient. I sure hope they grow up soon!”
            “You must understand that having your potty box under the desk is a big concession. The ball is in your court, Suzy” added Charlie, who hadn’t spoken until then.
            “Alright then, let’s break it up. All of you have things to do, and I think we all understand each other,” said Toots.
            “Thanks, guys,” said Suzy, as the connection faded out, and all of  her friends left to go about their own business.
            “Bye!” said Sweetie!
            “M’WoW!” hollered Booker, and the meeting was over.

😻 Das Ende 😺