Category Archives: Animal Stories

It All Began With My Neighbors Cats

Strottles on a bad day

I grew up in the small town of Maple Shade, New Jersey, in the 1950s and lived there until I was twenty. There were a great many children my age living in Maple Shade, so there were always friends to play with me. But, occasionally, I would find myself alone and go over to my neighbor’s house and visit her cats. Her cats lived in her house, but they had access to a cellar window where they could go outside in a large fenced area in her backyard to spend the day outside for as long as they wished. I loved to go over and talk to the cats and often spent most of the day there. Mrs. Collins lived two houses down from my house. So, my mother never had to go far to find me. Suppose it was time for lunch or dinner. She just called out,” Time for lunch, Susan.”

I also befriended all my neighbor’s dogs. I constantly begged my parents to get a dog. My neighbor, the Lombardi’s, had a cat they fed but were not allowed to live in their house. His name was Strottles, And I made it my business to spend a good part of my day talking to him and feeding him snacks that I would get out of our refrigerator. I was careful not to take any of my father’s favorite foods, or he would have “a bird,” as my mother used to say.

Strottles spent much time coming to our kitchen door and meowing when hungry. One day, my mother was taking the trash out to the garbage can, inadvertently leaving the side kitchen door open. And Strottles came into the kitchen. I suppose he was looking for something to eat. Unfortunately, my mother had left her pet parakeet out of the cage, and he was walking across the kitchen table, knocking the knives and forks off the table, Which was his daily habit. And Strottles managed to jump on the table, and he killed my mother’s pet, whom she loved dearly. This broke my mother’s heart. And my father blamed me because I had befriended the cat that killed my mother’s birdy. I ended up getting a spanking, and my father made me go down into the cellar until he told me I could come up to the kitchen again. I was broken-hearted. I love my mother’s little bird, too, and I never wanted it to be harmed in any way. I felt bad about my mom’s bird being killed. The guilt was overwhelming at times. And although it has been over sixty years, I never forgot it.

Somehow, this event did not deter my love of animals, but I did become aware of keeping all my feathered and furry friends safe from harm. And that remains true to this day. And here I am in the last years of my life, and over the years, I have owned and loved many cats and birds, mostly cocktails, and several dogs.

Presently, I have two dogs and ten birds. And one cat. For the last nine years since I retired, I have been volunteering at an animal sanctuary. And I have been taking care of parrots, doves, and occasionally pheasants. Over two hundred animals live at the sanctuary, and it feels like my childhood dream has come true. At one point in my life, I considered attending school to become a veterinarian. But realized it would take many years since I was thirty-six. Instead, I applied to Tyler School of Art at Temple University in Philadelphia, PA. I was the only adult student in the Freshman Class. But, honestly, that never bothered me. I befriended all the students who attended Tyler with me. And some of the teachers who were my age. It wasn’t easy because I had two young children at the time, a house, and a husband to care for. But, somehow, I got through those four years. And graduated at the top of my class Magnum Cum Laude. I taught Art to children and adults for many years in a school I opened up in our new Pitman, New Jersey home.

But I had a house with eight cats and a couple of birds, not to mention all the wild birds I fed and the neighbor’s cats. Who somehow found out about me and came crying at my back door. I realized over time that these outside cats were propagating like crazy, so I bought a couple of large traps, captured them, and took them to the vet’s to have them altered so they wouldn’t have any further kittens. I found homes for the kittens that had already been born, and I kept several of them myself.

Life offers us many opportunities to do good in the world and make the most of our time here.

After I graduated from college at the top of my class with two degrees and teaching credentials. I worked in Social Service positions in Camden, NJ. I worked at the Center for Family Service with Wilson Goode. We matched at-risk kids in Camden with mentors from the five churches with mentors from churches. In this capacity, I had to visit the parents of some of these children who were incarcerated in prison for reasons I didn’t always know. I had to explain to the parents that I needed their permission to match their child or children with mentors from the churches in the hope of preventing their children from repeating their parent’s mistakes and ending up in prison. Most parents were more than willing to help their children in any way they could. The Center for Family Services, which employed me, would match these children with church members. It was not an easy job, but it is one that I feel provided a better life for the children who lived in Camden, NJ. After that, I worked at Ranch Hope in Alloway, NJ, as a counselor with at-risk adolescent boys adjudicated by the court for various infractions with the police. These boys had grown up under difficult circumstances and didn’t always have good role models; most lived in poverty. I worked at Ranch Hope for five years, a complex and challenging position. I do feel that I succeeded with these boys to some degree and that some did manage to change their behavior so that when they were released from their time at Ranch Hope, there was a strong possibility that they could go out in the world and keep out of trouble and hopefully make some positive contributions.

I look back at that time and wonder how I had gotten through those years. They were not easy ones. But I do feel that I did give those boys an opportunity to create a better life for themselves. I knew that there were some adults in their lives who wanted them to move forward, succeed in life, and hopefully do better than their parents had done.

I’ve had many jobs over my long life, and I believe I have learned as much from the children I’ve taught as they have learned from me. I have no regrets about my life at all. I have lived all over the country in New Jersey, Florida, and California and now retired in North Carolina. I no longer work with at-risk kids. I work with animals, who have also been one of the great loves of my life. I don’t know my future since I am now seventy-three years old. But I know that as long as I have breath in my body, I will continue to do good for as long as possible.

THE BIRDS IN MY LIFE, A BIRD”S EYE VIEW

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As long as I can remember, I have held a fascination and deep love for birds. I can remember sitting in my backyard in Maple Shade, New Jersey, under our Weeping Willow tree and quietly observing all the birds flying overhead. There were several birds nest in the Willow Tree. And I loved nothing more than to sit there for long stretches of time and listen to the baby birds squeaking for their mothers to feed them. Their hunger was all-encompassing. And it seemed that they didn’t care for anything except for being fed and having their mother sitting on their nest and keeping them warm.

As the Spring transitioned into Summer, I continued to observe them quietly while I sat under our beautiful Willow Tree and by the time Summer came to an end, the baby birds had grown up, and before long, they flew away from their nest and headed south for the winter. I would miss their presence over the long, late Fall and cold winter days. But, I knew that come next Spring new birds would arrive and build their nests and create their own new baby birds. This experience would come and go, and over the years, I grew up as well. One of the last Springs that I remember watching for the arrival of the Spring Birds, our Willow Tree, and all the other Willow Trees on Fellowship Road, where I grew up, became infected by some disease that was called Willow Blight. It was a type of fungus that killed off all the Willow Trees where I lived and across the state of New Jersey. And eventually, my father had to cut down the now blighted tree.

After the tree was cut down and the trunk removed, I experienced a period of loss. Not only did I miss my beautiful Willow, but I missed the birds and the baby bird and the hatchlings that used to occupy the Willow in the Spring and early Summer. I missed sitting on the bench that my father had built where I used to sit and listen to the birds. And I often read one of my many library books during my Summer vacation,

As I grew older, I found other things to do during the Summer, like swimming in the community pool and digging in the clay pits, roller skating, riding my bike all over the place and playing with all my neighborhood friends, going swimming in my friend’s swimming pool next door and catching and releasing fireflies at night.

Strawbridge Lake, Moorestown.J

Sometimes, I and one of my friends would ride our bikes all the way to Moorestown and go to Strawbridge Lake. People used to go fishing here. My friends and I used to walk around in the shallow part of the lake and cross the dam where the waterfall was located to the other side and back. There were all kinds of trees and shrubs located at Strawbridge Lake. We often brought our lunches with us and sat on the edge of the lake and ate our bologna or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I used to save some of the scraps and give them to the ducks that swam on the lake. Birds would come from near and far to visit the lake and rest in the trees that shaded the park and the pond. Strawbridge Lake was an oasis for both children and adults and the many birds, squirrels, fish, and reptiles that lived in the area. I have so many beautiful memories of my experiences there as a child. So much so that when I grew up, married, and moved back to New Jersey, I brought my own children and some of my nieces and nephews to Strawbridge Lake to enjoy the lake, the sun, and the beautiful birds that lived there during the warmer months. In the winter, Strawbridge Lake would freeze over, and we would go ice skating there.

As time passed by, I left my childhood behind. But I never let my love of birds and animals slip away. My mother had a pet parakeet in a cage in our kitchen, and that little bird re-ignited my love of birds. And as a result I haunted my mother and father for years to have a pet. As a result, over the years, my family adopted and loved several dogs and all the neighborhood cats I befriended.

One cat in particular, whose name was Strottles, was a large orange cat that our next-door neighbor had owned. Who grew tired of him and put him out. I used to feed him on the sly because my father was not fond of cats. And then, one unfortunate day, my mother was taking the trash outside to put in the garbage, and she had inadvertently left the side door open. Strottles went into the kitchen, and he killed my mother’s beloved bird. And my mother was devastated by the loss, my father blamed me because I was friends with the cat. And he made me go down the cellar for several hours.

My mother never wanted another bird after that. She was brokenhearted. So, once again, I was left to love the wild birds that populated our neighborhood and the wild geese and ducks at Strawbridge Lake. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that my father bought me several finches and a cage for them because I kept begging my parents to let me have a pet. He also let me have a hamster who turned out to be an escape artist—the last time he escaped into the heating ducts, my father had to cut a hole in one of the heating ducts in the cellar to get him out. This did not make my father a happy camper by any means. The finches were the last birds that I had while I was living at home with my parents.

And it wasn’t until I married my now husband and moved to Florida and then California that we bought our first cockatiel. We named him Pepey. We had him for quite a long time. And over the many years, we had several more.

Jalepeno

And here I am, ten years into my retirement. And we are living in North Carolina. As soon as we settled into our new home, which is in a small development, I decided that I wanted to volunteer to work with animals. And in fact, that is precisely what I did. I searched the internet, and voila’ I found a place called Animal Edventure located in Coats, NC.

I contacted them, and I told them I was looking for a part-time volunteer position taking care of animals of some kind. They made an appointment to come in and talk to them about a volunteer position. And that is just what I did. The first thing they told me was they needed a Bird Person to take care of their many birds. And I said, sure, I would love that. That was almost nine years ago, and I have been taking care of parrots, Macaws, and pheasants of every size and description.

In addition, I have adopted four parrots, six finches, and two dogs. I go to Animal Edventure on Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday morning and take care of these beautiful and, yes, loud birds. So, what can I say, “Some things are just meant to be.” Me and Birds, it’s a thing.

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As The Crow Flies

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I woke up abruptly this morning. I heard something tapping on my bedroom window. I tried to ignore it for quite a while. I put my pillow over my head. I plug my ears. The noise is relentless. My bedroom is on the second floor. So, really, who could be knocking on the window? A window washer, Superman, and a drone. Oh no, perhaps it’s a second-story man. All highly unlikely suspects. I toss and turn and try to fall back to sleep. No luck; I’m wide awake. And once that happens, I have to get up. I walk over to the window and throw open the curtains.

CROW by Capri 23auto

I’m startled. I see a Crow with bright, black eyes staring back at me. He begins tapping on the window. Tap, tap. Tap. I tap back. Tap. Tap. Tap. He’s hanging on the screen. “Hello,” I yell loudly. He opens his beak wide. I believe he might be saying hello back to me. I smile. He opens his beak again. And then tap. Tap, tap. What does it mean? He flies away and lands in the Dogwood Tree that I planted next to my Koi pond last year. It’s just now beginning to bloom—my favorite tree.

I’ve always been very fond of birds. I think you might call it some kind of harmless obsession. I’m a painter, and almost all my paintings have birds in them. I spend a great deal of time in my garden, planting flowers that will attract birds, butterflies, and bees. I have nesting boxes and bird feeders all over my yard.

But all that is beside the point. I have enjoyed my momentary interaction with the Crow. Since I’m awake, I decide to get an early start on my day. I dress, go into my studio, and continue working on my latest painting. Several pleasant hours pass by. I notice a growling noise. It’s my stomach; I realize that it’s nearly lunchtime, and I haven’t eaten anything yet today.

I rummage around inside my frig and decide to heat some vegetable soup. That I made yesterday, it’s a gorgeous sunny Spring day. I choose to go outside to my screened porch and eat my soup and crackers. I take a deep breath. The air is sweet and fresh.

I so enjoy watching the birds fly from one feeder to another. There are six Cardinals at the feeder next to the back fence. I notice that a Blue Bird and her mate are building a nest inside the Blue Birdhouse. I smile. What could be better than this? I look forward to seeing them raise a family there. Spring, by far, is my favorite season. It inspires hope when the earth wakes up from its wintery sleep. It inspires hope, as all new beginnings do.

As I sit on my porch, I think, what could be better than this? I finish my soup, and I must admit it’s delicious. Nothing tastes better than something made from vegetables that you grow in your garden from seed. As I’m about to go back to the house, I notice a crow in the cul-de-sac. He’s standing in the middle and is bowing over and over again. Four crows are walking in a circle around him. It looks so absurd that I burst out laughing. I wonder if he’s the same crow that was taping on my window early this morning. Perhaps he’s the King of the Crows.

The next morning, I’m still fast asleep. And I hear a tapping noise once again. I groan and look over at the clock. It’s 6:45 am. I pull my pillow over my head so as not to hear the tapping. It’s relentless. I can still hear it. Tap. Tap. Tap. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and walk over to the window. And Pull the curtains aside. And behold, it’s the King of Crows. Once again, I tapped on my bedroom window. As I study him, I realize that he isn’t the uniform black that I first observed. He had a light violet on his torso. And his wings were a fantastic, greenish-blue.

“What? What are you trying to tell me? Please stop waking me up so early in the morning. I realize he can’t hear me through the closed window. I open it up slightly. He begins to caw loudly. I still don’t understand what he wants me to do. I decided to do some research on Crows that will enlighten me on this behavior.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early. I wonder if the Crow will tap at my window. I’m somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t arrive. I get up and walk over to the window. I pull one of the curtains back just far enough to the lookout. My crow is hanging on the window screen. He looks directly at me. I see his beak opening up wide. I know he‘s cawing at me. I decided that this is just his way of saying Good morning or hello. I laugh. He opens his beak again.

He flies away, and I watch as he lands once again in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Four crows fly down from the forty-foot evergreens on the opposite side of the cul-de-sac. They form a circle around him once again, and he bows as they circle him. I open the window, and I hear him cawing. The four other crows join in. It’s a mysterious ceremony. I feel a compulsion to join in. I know it’s absurd, but still, I want to do it. Perhaps I was a crow in a former life? Then I say out loud, “former life, I’m losing it. I’m going off the deep end.” I’m spending too much time alone in my studio. I need to get out more. See more people, join in. Go to the gym. Something.

I ended up going to the library and researching Crows. I know I can find information about them online. But then I wouldn’t be getting out of the house, would I? And I would also miss going to my favorite place in the world, the library. Yes, that’s right, the library. I have memories of a lifetime of experiences within the walls and between the stacks at my childhood library, the library in my college, and, of course, my local library. The bastion of knowledge, a literary jackpot. The somewhat cheesy smell and touch of old books and ink on paper. The oily residue of a hundred hands. Old books have their history. How many people have touched the pages and digested the words? The possibilities are endless. For me, it is a sanctuary, a respite. Yes, even nirvana.

I decided I should approach the research librarian. I’m somewhat ambivalent, though I have a fierce love of the library and its contents. I fear the librarians. It has been my experience that librarians are not social creatures. I believe they each chose this calling because they don’t care about interacting with their fellow human beings. And that is precisely why they chose this line of work. Because they mistakenly thought, they would spend their entire working lives with their beloved books. But alas, no. They soon realized that they would be interacting with people. Beings capable of disrupting the quiet. They might become noisy, even boisterous at times. And god forbid dogearing the pages and, most hideous of all, desecrating these sacred volumes by marking the pages.

I stealthily approach the research librarian’s desk. She has her head down. Several ancient-looking tomes are open on her desk, and she’s running her index finger along the line of printed words. She is scrupulously not to touch the page lest oil from her hands mar its precious surface. I consider telling her to use finger cots, but I imagine she might slap me for making such a crude suggestion. As if I might be suggesting she use a condom.

“Excuse me,” I say in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. “Excuse me.” No response. I clear my throat several times. Nothing. I say in a somewhat louder tone, “Hello, madam, could you please help me? I need some assistance. I wish there were a bell on the desk. But no such luck. I imagine she may stroke out if I did ring a bell. She slowly raises her head. She gives me a cold, dead stare. Her eyes are pinned on me. I fear she might make a sudden move and attack me in some way.

“Yes.”

I smile my very friendliest smile. One that I reserve for dogs and babies. A smile that rarely fails to ingratiate me. It does not affect her. She continues to stare. It’s unnerving; I decide to jump in and spill it all out at once. “Could you please help me find information about the crows that live in this section of the country?”

She begins by typing rapidly on her computer. I wait patiently. After no more than a minute, she says, ”Corvus brachyrhynchoz, American Crow. Common to this area.”

“Can you tell me if you have any books in this library that I can take home to study?”

She accesses her computer once again. “No, not here. But I can put in a request from one of our other branches. If you give me your library card and contact information, I will notify you when we receive it at this branch. She slides me a form to fill out. I quickly do so. Then, she writes down some numbers on another paper and says abruptly, “Here, go to the stacks listed on this paper, and you will find several books on birds that inhabit North Carolina. They’re reference books, but you can copy pages that interest you.”

She puts her head down; I’m dismissed. And I have disappeared from her conscious thoughts. I count my lucky stars. I came away from this interaction relatively unscathed. I look at the call numbers for the books. And I’m off to the reference section of the library. I notice that my teeth are clenched and my shoulders are hunched. I take several breaths and try to relax. At one time, I had considered becoming a librarian. I can see that I would then have become a clone of this woman. And I don’t know for sure if that would have been a good thing or a bad thing.

I find the books noted on the paper and sit down for several hours immersed in my current obsession, the Crow. It’s fascinating. I wonder where this experience will take me. I could study this particular species and be done with it. Or perhaps once I read about it, I’ll then want to observe the “Crows” behavior. Or maybe I’ll take it further. There’s no knowing at this point. But I have been down this path before. And have only regretted it once before. Only time will tell.

After spending numerous hours reading about crows, I realized that this would become a long-term project. OK, some may call it an obsession. But I say tomato, tomato—same difference. I would spend the evening creating my strategy, and tomorrow I would begin.

I set my alarm for sunrise. Last night, I studied the research that I gleaned from my visit to the library. It was enlightening, to say the least. Most importantly, I have discovered that Crows are highly intelligent creatures. More intelligent than Parrots. They are capable of making and using rudimentary tools in their pursuit of food. They have phenomenal memories. They can distinguish and remember a human face over a long period, even if they haven’t seen that face for several years.

They are known to band together to mob predators and even humans that they consider a threat for some reason. They mate for life, and both the male and female and older siblings care for the baby birds communally. And what I found most profound of all is that they mourn the death of a fellow crow, even if it was formerly unknown to them. And it’s at that point I know I have entered the first stage of a full-fledged obsession. I welcome it. I’m never more complete than when I’m immersed, whether it be a new painting, creating a new garden, or solving a mystery.

Last night, before I retired to my bed, I gathered different types of food that I believe would entice my new avian friend to stay longer at my window. And that I might become better acquainted with him. I had read during my research at the library that Crows are omnivorous. And they will eat whatever food is readily available. That could include anything from vegetables to insects—or even dead animals and garbage.

I collect an assortment of food, from hard-boiled eggs to a spider I captured in my basement. I carefully placed it in a small cup that I attached to the siding underneath my bedroom window.

The following morning, I heard a scratching sound followed by cawing outside of my window. I carefully peek through the curtain. I see my crow studying the food cache I left for him. He’s eyeing it thoroughly, and then he reaches down and gingerly picks up a grape and eats it. He looks directly at my face and caws. He picks up the piece of boiled egg and flies off with it in his beak. I watch him until he’s no longer in my field of vision.

Later that afternoon, I peeked out the window. And I realize that all the food I left is gone. And in its’ place is something shiny. I shove the window open and pick it up. A small cut stone. I realize it is an emerald. It looks familiar, somehow. I stare at it. And then it comes to me. It looks just like the emerald that I lost last Spring when I was working in the kitchen garden. I rush over to my jewelry box and pick up the ring that’s missing its stone. I remember how upset I was when I lost it. I looked everywhere for it. It was a birthday gift from my mother on my sixteenth birthday.

My mother passed away last summer. I put the stone in the setting. It fits perfectly. A wave of emotion fills me up, and tears flow out of my eyes. I feel like I have regained a little piece of my mother again. I can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. I think that King Crow and I were somehow ordained to meet. And I’m somehow meant to help him in some way in the future.

About a week later, I enjoyed a bowl of hot oatmeal on my back porch when I heard a loud ruckus. I realized that it was a murder of Crows cawing at a hawk swooping down on a fledgling that was eating seeds on the ground underneath my birdfeeder. I stand up pick up my binoculars, and look at the bird on the ground. It’s a fledgling crow.

I’m finally able to drive off the Hawk by walking around the backyard banging a pot and pan together. After I go back onto the porch, I sit and watch as four crows come down and surround the fledgling. They walk all around him, bobbing their heads. I know he will be safe for now. But I have to come up with a plan to keep the hawk out of my pond and away from the crows.

I decided to create a scarecrow. I‘m going to dress the scarecrow in my old gardening clothes. I know the Crows recognize me and aren’t going to be scared away by a scarecrow, but the hawk would be. My Koi will be safe, and so will King Crow and the fledglings. I go into the garage and begin to build the frame for my scarecrow and put my old clothes on it. I have to admit it looks like a decent facsimile of me. I even put my old straw gardening hat on its head.

As I place the scarecrow near the back fence, I notice that at least a hundred crows are roosting in the trees in the woods behind my fence. They are cawing to one another. Then, one crow flies down and lands on the ground about five feet away from the bird feeder. He watches me with great interest. He doesn’t leave until I start walking away. I look at him and bow, and he bows back. I‘m certain it’s King Crow. He caws loudly, and I caw at him. I walk back to my house and then turn and wave at the crows. He brought the ring back to me, and I gave him and his fellow crows a haven. It’s. No one will ever convince me of anything different.

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LOVEY

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The driver of the van yells, “Stop Lovey, stop” to no avail. He calls his boss on his cell phone. “You have to stop, so I can let Lovey out, or she’s going to cause herself and the van untold damage.” The owner agrees to stop in the next empty lot he sees. And stay for the night, take care of the animals, and let everyone rest before their next performance.

The last caravan pulls into the deserted parking lot well past midnight. Time and the sun have faded the painting of the bearded lady on the side of the van. But you can still clearly see her glamorous figure clad in a red, white and blue ballerina tutu. Her glorious red beard is there for all to admire.

They had driven almost six hundred miles in the last two days. Everyone in the Three Ringed Circus is extremely tired, hot and sweaty. It was getting harder and harder to find new venues. The public wants to see the glamour and amazing feats of courage and flying acrobats, doing death-defying acts. They want their animals wild, but safe, looking healthy and happy.

But they weren’t getting that from Three-Ring Circus. It’s on the last leg of a journey that began its’ history in the early 1950s. Most of the famous performers have retired or moved on, or just disappeared from sight altogether.

When Gaucho pulls open the sliding doors to the van, Lovey trumpets as loud as she can. The only thing keeping her in the van is the shackles on her ankles. Gaucho has the bullock in his hand and shows it to Lovey. Usually, this is enough to calm her down.

She knows from many years of experience that if it slaps against her sensitive skin, it will sting for a very long time and might well cut her. If the cut becomes infected the circus doesn’t have a veterinarian on staff. And certainly, the little towns that they frequent don’t have a wild animal vet. She would be a very sick elephant and might die from a simple injury.

The circus often only had outdated medications and no money to spend on the care that these animals need. In the wild elephants often walk up to fifty miles a day across the savanna and live as long as fifty years. Animals kept in circuses even the famous, moneyed ones lived an average of twelve years.

Gaucho steps back, he knows this animal has great power and weight behind her, but he’s never seen her like this. He has been her trainer for five years. He knows from talking to the other carnies that Lovey and has been with the circus for a long time.

And that at one time, she had a mate, named Ganesha a huge elephant from India. He had sickened and died before a large animal vet could be found. Lovey had been very attached to him and mourned his death for many years. He was told that she was never the same after his death.

She had refused to perform and sometimes refused to eat or drink. She has a big heart, and it had been broken by the loss of her mate. Elephants are herd animals, and she was here alone with no other elephants. She was near animals that would have been a threat to her if she were still living in the wild. Her life with the circus was unnatural and very stressful for her and all the other wild creatures that are captive here.

Gaucho walks over to the supply truck and pulls out a wagon that contains water. Luckily, they had filled all the containers on their last stop. He grabs a bucket and puts it in the wagon. He pulls down the ramp and hurriedly pulls the wagon down the ramp, and over to the terrified, and terrifying Lovey.

He carefully slides the bucket next to her and fills it with water. Lovey’s about to kick the bucket away then she realizes it’s water. She puts her trunk down into the bucket and sprays the water across her back and then again into the bucket and quenches her thirst.

She feels momentarily relieved and quiets. Gaucho slowly and carefully unchains her ankles. By this time many of the circus performers and all of the grunts are standing behind Gaucho. “Stay back, fools, get away from here while I take care of Lovey. Unless you want to be pummeled into the earth.”

Gaucho waits for a few moments then gives Lovey the trunk-up signal. Lovey becomes enraged and begins trumpeting loudly and stamps her feet. There’s a look of fire in her eyes and it’s at that moment that Gaucho knows to get the hell out of the way and shouts.” Run, run.”

He follows his own good advice just in time, Lovey charges out of the van and begins running, running for her life. In her mind, she sees before her the golden savanna grasses being blown by the soft breeze and the cool water of the elephant water hole of her youth in the distance.

She’s determined to reach it at any cost. She will run down anything that tries to prevent her from arriving there. She’s saving her life. Her instinct for self-preservation kicks in and she runs full tilt, there’s no stopping her. Everyone who has been watching her now disappears into the wind, not wanting to be trampled by this behemoth that has lost her mind.

Someone has called the coffer and he arrives just in time to see the elephant charging his jeep. He quickly reaches behind him to get his rifle and aims it at her head and pulls the trigger, and then again for good measure. Lovey keeps moving momentarily before the message gets to her brain that she’s dead. And then she drops to the ground, finally free, free to travel to the land of her birth, among her tribe. She sees her beloved Ganesha, she feels love fill her huge heart, and then peace.

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REPEAT AFTER ME

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Blue and Gold Macaw

My best friend Kathleen told me that she is moving out of state to Arizona because she was offered a new job, higher pay, and a promotion. I can’t lie I was devasted by the news. She lived on the same block as I did. We were in the same classroom all through grade school. When we graduated from high school we attended the same Junior College, but I went on to university and she got a job as an office manager and head accountant at a law firm. I had my heart set on becoming a famous writer. And to that end, I applied at Temple University in Philadelphia and went on to get my Master’s Degree.

Meanwhile, Kathleen moved slowly but surely up that corporate ladder. And by the time I was working at the Philadelphia Inquirer as a cub reporter by day and wrote short stories at night and sent them off to all the local magazines. Meanwhile, in my free time, I was working on a novel that I hoped would finally launch me into the public eye as an up-and-coming author.

Kathleen wrote me occasional emails and about once a month we would get together for drinks and dinner. The last time I saw her we went to the Medford Inn for dinner. It is a posh restaurant about thirty minutes from my home. Sometimes it takes a month to get your name on the waiting list for dinner reservations. But Kathleen was a rising star and she had no difficulty getting reservations anywhere. Meanwhile, I was working out the kinks in my latest novel and I hoped and prayed that this book would make it to the best sellers list so I could quit my reporter’s job and spend all my time writing.

As I was saying Kathleen contacted me by text and ask me to meet her at the Medford Inn for dinner on Friday night at seven o’clock. I was so excited just to get out of my tiny apartment and out into the real world. It took me an hour to finally decided on what outfit to wear. I really can’t afford to shop where Kathleen does. However, I do shop in thrift shops that only accept top-of-the-line clothes. And the prices can’t be beaten. Designer clothes that look like they just came off the rack at Berghoff Goodman and probably did, but were worn maybe two or three times before.

So, I was right on time as usual but Kathleen as usual was late. After about a half hour when I was beginning to lose my patience with her, she came strolling in the door. When she walked through that door all eyes were riveted on her. I have never seen her look more beautiful. If I didn’t love her like a sister, I would have been green with jealousy. She walked over to my table and leaned over and kissed me on my left cheek. But there was something about her expression that made me worry. I hoped it wasn’t bad news. She told me about a month ago that her mother wasn’t well. I hoped she hadn’t taken a turn for the worse.

Kathleen sat down across from me and took my hand. “Ellen dear, I have some good news and some bad news.”

I swallowed hard and said, “oh no is your mother alright?”

“My mother, oh no, actually she is feeling much better. Let’s order some wine and I’ll tell you my news.” About ten minutes later I said, “come on Kathleen spill the beans. I can’t take the tension anymore. I’ve been on pins and needles since you told me you had news to tell me. So, tell already, enough.”

“Well, I just got offered a new job, and no lie. It’s what I’ve been dreaming about doing since I graduated from school. And I’ve been working my butt off ever since. And I finally got the big payoff.

The bad news is that I have to move to Arizona. My company is opening up a new office there and I am going to be the Vice President and hopefully at some point president. I am really over the moon at this point. I’m so excited. And in addition, I was given the option of taking my office staff with me.”

“Wow, congratulations I have no words. I’m so proud of you. I always knew that you would be a success but this promotion is awesome. And you deserve it. You are one of the most intelligent, hardworking people I know. “

“Oh, and there’s one move thing Ellen, I have a big favor to ask.”

“Oh, you know Harry?”

“Harry, Harry who?”

“My parrot, Harry. “

“Oh yeah, Harry. I forgot all about him. What about him?”

“Could you take him, I’m going to be so busy with my new job and responsibilities that I won’t have any time to spend with him. I don’t want to give him to a stranger. I love him. What do you say?”

“I don’t know what to say, I would do anything for you. But, take your parrot. I mean parrots take a lot of time and are messy and they live a long, long time. And he’s really noisy, isn’t he? I have to have peace and quiet when I’m writing. I can’t have a bird squawking all night and day.”

“Please Ellen, I’m begging you. I asked everyone that I know and you’re my last hope. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to give him to a stranger. I know you will come to love him. He is a lot of company and he’s brilliant. He learns new words easily. He’ll keep you company. You spend so much time alone. It will be good for you. I’ll buy all his food and treats for him before I leave. I’ll trim his claws tool. Please, please I never really ask you for a big favor before. You’re my best friend and I trust you.”

“OK, OK. I’ve never really been able to say no to you. When are you leaving?”

“Well, next week. I know that’s short notice. But I got to get this new office up and running asap. What is a good time for me to bring him over, how about at the end of the week on Friday at noon time?”

“OK, well congratulations on your new job. I’ll miss you like crazy. This will be only the second time we will be living so far apart. But I guess it would have happened sometime. So, I better get going I have a lot of rewriting to do today. I only have five more chapters to go through and then I’ll be sending my new book to the publishers. I’m hoping this book will be the one that gets my books in all the bookstores and finally make a decent living.”

“You know that I think you are one of best writers I know. I’ll keep my fingers and toes crossed for you. But you don’t need good luck, you’re the best writer I know. So, I’ll see you tomorrow at about noon with your new best buddy.”

The next day at twelve noon sharp Kelly walked slowly to her front door as her doorbell rang over and over again. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Take it easy already. Kelly peeked out the front window and saw a strange-looking face looking back at her and nearly screamed. When she realized it was Harry the parrot looking back at her. She forgot how big he was. She opened the door and there stood Kathleen with Harry in tow.

“Good lord, I forgot how big Harry was. What kind of parrot is he Kathleen? He s a Macaw Kelly. I know you too are really going to get along like gangbusters. There’s never a dull moment when Harry’s around. Can you hold him for a few minutes while I bring all his stuff into the house? He has a big cage, but I only put him in it a night. Where do you want his cage ?”

“Where did I want it? I forgot he even had a cage. I guess you’ll have to put it on the back porch it’s enclosed and I can put a portable heater in there.”

“Oh, I also have a big perch that he sits on when he’s inside. You might want to put newspaper underneath it and change the papers every day. He doesn’t really make too much mess, but you have to clean off his perch and clean out his cage. Maybe you can go get his perch from the back of my van and I’ll hold Harry for you. Then you’ll have to get newspapers to put under the perch.”

OK, I’ll go get the perch and anything else I can carry in while I’m at it. As Kelly walked out of the car, she started to feel like this was going to be one of the worse mistakes of her life. How was she ever going to concentrate with that giant bird screaming all day and night? When she got to the car, she saw what appeared to be a bunch of tree limbs tied together. It was huge. She said, “good lord, out loud. “This is too much what have I gotten myself into?”

Kelly pulled the perch out of the car, dragged it to the front door, shoved it in, and slammed the door shut. And that is when she heard the most horrible noise she ever heard. Kelly screamed. “Oh my god, what is that freaking noise?”

“Oh, that was just Harry, you startled him. He’ll be fine once he gets used to his new environment. Oh, by the way, you may want to put away anything that is easily broken, Harry likes to chew on things and his beak is really strong. And until he gets used to you. Don’t put your fingers near his beak. But, don’t say anything you don’t want to be repeated. Oh, and he can fly.”

So, don’t leave the window or doors open. Only let him outside if he is in his big cage. This is a step-up stick, you put it in front of him and say “step-up, step-up Harry.” And he’ll step up onto the stick and then you can put him in his cage. Here I’ll demonstrate, Kathleen put Harry on the back of the couch and then got the pick-up stick and put it in front of Harry and said, ’step up, step up Harry. And Harry immediately stepped up. See, isn’t that easy. Whenever he does something, he’s told you can reward him with a treat like a peanut. Harry shelled the peanut and swallowed one after the other. Then he let out a sound that sounded like a fat man doing a belly laugh.

“Good lord, he is so loud.”

“You’ll get used to it. OK, I’m going to go get the rest of his stuff.

“There’s more?”

Thirty minutes later Kathleen had all Harry’s stuff in the house. Ellen was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and her heart was beating like a snare drum. She thought she might be having some kind of anxiety attack as Kathleen was at the front door and was about to leave for good. Kelly wanted to scream no, no don’t go. Take this freaking bird with you, I can’t do it. I just can’t. But she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. And then before she knew it Kathleen was gone, on her way to her fabulous future.

She was standing in her newly carpeted living room which now was festooned with giant splats of bird excrement. Kelly started to silently cry. And then she heard someone else sobbing too. It was Harry. He sounded exactly like Kelly, exactly. Kelly didn’t know if she wanted to continue crying or start laughing. Harry stared at her and he started laughing. Then they were both laughing and crying at the same time.

By the end of the week, Kelly found out that Harry was company, loud obnoxious company. But there was never a dull moment. Sometimes Kelly would read what she was writing out loud to Harry and he would laugh and sometimes cry. And the weird thing was he seemed to laugh and cry at just the right times. Between writing and cleaning Kelly was making progress with her book. And she found herself waking up early in the morning because Harry was calling out for peanuts. And sometimes he would make insightful comments like, “get rid of that guy.” And Kelly thought yeah, Harry’s right I should get rid of that guy. And then she would be inspired in another direction.

By the end of the month, she had finished her book and had a great concept for another book. She was starting her next book when she got a call from her publisher that he loved her new novel and the idea for her next book and send her a big fat check in advance.

Kelly went over to Harry on his perch and waved her check and said, “can you believe it we finished that book and I got an advance? Do you have any more ideas, Harry? “

Harry gave her the side eye and said, “Yes, Harry has plenty of ideas.” And he laughed as loud as he could. And so began the great partnership of Harry and Kelly.

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TEA BREAK

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The bed creaks as Sarah wrestles with her sweaty sheets. She closes her eyes tightly against the early morning light. She knows what time it is because she wakes up at seven-thirty every single day. Even the sleeping pills on her bedside table don’t allow her one more moment of rest.

Strottles the cat Photo by Bob Culver

She gives in, opening one eye at a time, and looks out her bedroom window. It’s a sunny, unbearably bright day. Sarah slides her bony feet into her worn purple slippers. Slowly, reluctantly she makes her way into the blue-tiled bathroom with the matching blue toilet and sink. Turns on the hot water and lets it run into the sink until steam rises to the mirror and obscures her face. She plunges her hands into the fray of water and splashes it on her face. Grabs a towel and roughly dries her face.

Sarah returns to her bedroom and pulls on a pair of elasticized pants, shrugs on an old white tea shirt with a faded American flag on the front, and pushes her feet into her ancient yellow leather Keds.

Holding tightly to the railing as she descends the staircase. Sarah fears falling more than anything. She lives alone, save for her cat, that occasionally shares her bed. Strottles went out several nights ago and hasn’t returned yet. He has an active love life, a happy bachelor.

Sarah wouldn’t admit to anyone how jealous she was of her cat. That is, if she had anyone, she felt she could confide her deepest feelings. Although she often whispers them into her feline Lothario’s velvety ear. He at least has never betrayed her lonesome soul.

A week ago, Sarah ate a breakfast of burnt toast and Earl Grey tea. She heard Strottles meowing outside the kitchen door. Strottles stood at the bottom of the steps with five multi-colored kittens. Sarah blinked several times, stepped back into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her. She sits down, and a tear runs down her face into her teacup, adding a salty taste to her morning repast.

This morning Sarah once again hears meowing at the back door. She looks out the window on the door and sees a black and white kitten staring back at her. At that moment, Sarah realizes that although humans had often failed to be faithful friends and left her behind when she needed them the most, cats had not.

Sarah opens the door. She sees not one cat but five, and behind them, Strottles. “Well, come in, come in. The heat is going out the door.”

“Well, Strottles, you have been a busy boy. Now here you are with a family. Where’s the Mama?”

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Oh, can’t take a joke? Well, it doesn’t matter. Let me get you and your feline family something to eat. I think I have some canned food for the babies. And some dry food for you. And perhaps some milk as well.”

Sarah opens the pantry door and gazes inside its dark interior. And she pulls the string that turns on the light. It reveals a pantry that needs restocking. Luckily, she always has cat food since Strottles has a healthy appetite. She takes down two cans, Chicken Delight and Pate’ Turkey and Giblets. One of Strottle’s favorites.

She sets out five saucers and Strottles bowl and places a little wet food, and mixes the dry food in it. Strottles is an old cat, almost twelve, and is missing most of his teeth. But he still manages to devour both the wet and the dry food. He mustn’t have had much to eat since he left save for the occasional mouse.

“Here you go, lad and lassies, breakfast. And here is your bowl, Strottles, the proud papa. You’ve done yourself proud with this little family.”

“You know, Strottles, I should’ve gotten you fixed years ago, and I think I will do that now. But I will take care of your babies until I can find some families to adopt them. Eat up now. And I’m going to give each of these little kitties a bath with Dawn just in case they have any fleas and you too, Strottles. I know you hate baths, but you play. You pay as my dad used to say.”

After the kittens have eaten their fill, Sarah walks over to the laundry room across from the kitchen. She puts a blanket in a box with a heating pad underneath it and places the kittens in one at a time. One of the kittens is the spitting image of his father, An orange-striped cat with emerald green eyes. Sarah can see he is going to be a big cat like his dad. His feet are enormous. And he has the longest tail she had ever seen on a kitten this little. He keeps rubbing up against her legs.

After the kittens settle onto the blanket, Sarah covers them up to keep them warm. She stares down at her newly adopted family and feels a sense of contentment she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Alright, Strottles, let me get the sink ready for your bath and clean you up. You look like you were sleeping rough. From now on, you will be staying in the house with your little family.”

As the sink fills with warm, soapy water, Sarah considers names for her new charges. She considers naming them after the Virtues of Prudence, Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, and Hope after she gets to know their personalities better.

She walks over to Strottles and picks him up. He protests by meowing as loudly as he can. Sarah ignores his crying and puts him gently in the sink. His meowing begins anew, but somehow, he is even louder.

Sarah says,” Settle down, it will be over before you know it, and then you can take a good long nap after your bath and toweling off. Sarah sprays Strottles and rubs Dawn over his body from his head to the tip of his striped tail. And then she rinses him off with warm water. Sarah rigorously towels Strottles off. As soon as she puts him down, he heads over to his cat bed in the living room and promptly falls asleep.

Sarah rinses off the sink and goes to the linen closet for some more towels for the kittens. Momentarily, she stops and thinks, what in the world am I going to do with six cats. She vows to herself not to get attached to the kittens.

It isn’t as easy bathing the kittens. Even though they are smaller, they’re so tiny they’re able to squirm and escape leaving trails of soapy water all along their escape path.

Sarah grabs the last kitten, who she decides to call Hope. She feels exhausted, and she’s dripping wet from head to toe. However, she can’t recall any time recently when she felt this happy and invigorated by anything she has undertaken.

Sarah walks over to the laundry room across from the kitchen. She puts a blanket in a box with a heating pad underneath it and places the kittens in one at a time. One of the kittens is the spitting image of his father. He is an orange-striped cat with emerald green eyes. Sarah sees he’s going to be a big cat like his dad. His feet are enormous. And he had the longest tail she had ever seen on a kitten this little. He keeps rubbing up against her legs, and he has the loudest purring she had ever heard come out of such a small cat.

After the kittens settle onto the blanket, Sarah covers them up to keep them warm. She stares down at her newly adopted family and feels a sense of contentment.

Sarah decides she better makes a trip to the grocery store to do a little food shopping. She changes her clothes and puts on her good shoes and coat with her purse grasped tightly in her hand. She has a nagging fear that someone will steal her purse, and then where would she be?

It isn’t easy getting old. Sarah often feels as if she’s alone and out to sea in a boat. She suddenly realizes that now she’s smiling and feels her spirit-lifting because she has a purpose now and isn’t alone anymore. She feels better than she has in weeks.

Sarah steps out her front door and closes it with a bang, and locks the top and the bottom lock. You can never be too careful. The Mom and Pop grocery store is only a ten-minute walk, and Sarah quick steps it to the corner where she runs into Gloria. An old friend she hasn’t seen in months.

“Gloria, what a surprise to see you. I heard you moved in with your son after you had that heart attack scare. How are you? I’ve missed you so much. I don’t have your son’s address, so I couldn’t even send you a Get Well card.”

“I’m much better. I just came home two days ago. I was on my way to your house to see you. I should have written or called you. But for the first couple of months, I was in a nursing facility, and I was depressed. Then once I moved in with my son, they kept me busy every minute of the day. Where are you going? I’ll go with you. Maybe we could stop and have some tea at Tea Break. I have so missed their Ginseng Tea.”

“Why, that sounds like an excellent idea. I would love nothing better. I have some great news to tell you. You know, Strottles, my cat. He showed up this morning after being missing for quite a while, and he returned with a litter of kittens. And one is his spitting image. Anyway, this morning I bathed them all, and now I’m on the way to buy some supplies.”

“Well, I guess congratulations are in order. What are you going to do with a litter of kittens? I would love to have one. It gets lonely living alone. On the other hand, living with my son and daughter-in-law and my four grandchildren was wonderful but exhausting.”

“Really, well, after lunch, you can come over and meet the kitties. And spend time with them until you decide which will be best for you.”

As Sarah and Gloria continue on their way to Tea Break, they see their mutual friend Connie waving at them from across the street. They wave back and cross the street. Simultaneously, they say, “Hi, Connie. How are you?”

“Well, I’m better now that I see you two. Gloria, I heard you were back. I’m so happy to see you looking so well. Where are you two off to?”

“Connie, we ran into each other as I was walking downtown to get some supplies for Strottles’ kitties. And then, we decided to go to Tea Break and tell each other what we have been up to.”

“Well, that sounds like fun. Would three be a crowd? I would love to join you. I haven’t been out of my house in a month of Sundays.”

“Well, that would be great. “

“Can you two give me a few minutes to run a comb through my hair and put a jacket on? I would love to catch up. I missed seeing you, Gloria. I heard you were staying with your son while you recovered.”

“Yes, but I’m much better now that I’m back home. I loved spending time with my grandchildren. I’ll tell you all about it at Tea Break. We’ll wait out here while you grab a jacket.”

“Gloria, this is turning out to be a wonderful morning. First, Strottles shows up with his beautiful kittens. And now you’re home, and we meet up with Connie. And we’re all going out for a get-together. “

“You’re right. I feel like a weight is off my chest. It will be such fun. I think we need to make this a regular thing for us to do together. “

“You’re right. Sometimes there are days when I don’t see or speak to another soul.”

“I hate to admit it, but that’s true for me too. And there is no reason on god’s earth for that to happen when we all live right down the street from one another, a short walk or phone call away.’

“And we can all thank Strottles for getting together because of his wanton ways. He is an old scoundrel, but I love him. Oh, here comes Connie. Let’s go.”

“Look out, world, here we come. Hey, while we’re at it, why don’t we stop and see the matinee at the Roxy Theater and then have some dinner on me.”

“Sound like a plan. So Sarah, what have you been up to? Anything new?”

“I’ll say, but let’s walk up to Tea Break, and then I’ll tell you the whole story.”

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THE MASKED BANDIT

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It’s early Spring, and I’ve recently planted all the vegetables that I had started in my greenhouse outside. I can’t tell you how much I looked forward to eating freshly picked vegetables, tomatoes, peppers, and herbs.

Every morning I walk outside filled with anticipation, loving every minute of the hard work, the heat, the rain, the weeding. And watching the bees slowly buzzing over the plants and landing on the flowers that have recently bloomed. I imagine the bees are in some sort of drunken stupor from the overwhelming array of smells as they hover and land so lightly upon the plants that surround them.

I take a deep breath. I feel slightly lightheaded. Even though I have gardened almost the entirety of my adult life, I still feel the same joy I felt the first time I saw a plant growing and peeking out from the earth that was merely a tiny seed ten days before.

The time flew by in what seemed moments, and I saw some of the watermelons growing larger by the day. I could almost taste their sweet nectar upon my lips. Every day that passed drew me closer to that moment when I could enjoy the fruits of my labor. And then the horror began.

One Saturday morning, I stepped outside on my screened-in porch, and I saw what appeared to be one of my watermelons in the middle of the yard. But how could that be? How in the world could that happen? This was the very watermelon that was so close to being ripe. It was huge. How could anything but a human being pick it up and carry it out into the middle of my yard? And then abandon it. What kind of warped individual would commit such a crime against nature, against me? Who, who would do it? I could not imagine.

We live in a small community with only about twenty homes. And my neighbors made a practice of keeping to themselves. They rarely even pass the time of day if they see you outside in your yard. I was lucky if they even waved. After six years, I only knew the names of a few of our neighbors.

I slipped my gardening boots on and ran out into the yard in my pajamas I hadn’t even put on my gardening clothes. I was in such a shocking state of mind I forgot I hadn’t gotten dressed yet. I felt as if I was looking at the remnants of a murder committed in my own backyard.

I ran through the wet grass. It had rained heavily the night before. And looked down at my fallen watermelon. And it had huge bites taken out of it. I could not comprehend why anyone would do such a thing. It was bad enough that he or she would steal from my garden. But, to then take bites out of it and then leave it to rot in the middle of my backyard was impossible to take in. I was baffled.

I felt such anger well up in my heart in mind. I felt my temples throbbing, and my face felt flushed. The only time I felt this angry was when I was in my last year of college, and my teacher told me that my latest story was the work of a person who had no clue how to write or had any creativity. He failed me for the semester, and I had to retake the course. And then one of my classmates told me that self-same teacher just had a story published in a magazine. And it was almost an exact copy of my story word for word.

This is how angry I felt today. Someone had taken one of my creations that I worked and sweated for and destroyed it, desecrated it. I silently promised myself that I would seek revenge on whoever was responsible for this crime against nature.

When I returned back to my house, I called up my best friend Beth and told her the whole story. She listened quietly without interrupting. And then she said, “.Elizabeth, try and calm down; you’re going to have a stroke if you don’t calm down. Try to put this in perspective. It was just a watermelon. I’m sure that you planted more than one. I know how much you love gardening and look; the fruits of your hard work are like children to you. But think about it, you were going to eat it. And there will be another melon to take its place.”

“What? Just another watermelon. How can you say that? I planned my garden all winter. I spent hours and days preparing the soil, planting the seeds, watching them, and watering them. “

“You’re right, Elizabeth, but what’s done is done. You just have moved forward. Try not to let this affect you so much. Try to move forward. Maybe you could put some kind of net over the garden to prevent further damage.”

“You’re right, Beth. I will have to find a protocol to prevent this from ever happening. I will set up traps all over my yard if need be.”

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Love Your Neighbors As You Love Your Enemies As They Are Probably One In The Same

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Here it is Monday morning again. The weeks seem to fly by. I’m a writer by trade. I have to produce a weekly story for an online fiction writing site. The problem is that I’m also a procrastinator. And I often wait until the last minute to start writing. Sometimes I have difficulty coming up with an original idea right away. And as the years go by, my ideas seem to flow more slowly each week.

And this week is no different. I sat at my desk for over three hours, and not a single idea came to mind. It’s eleven-thirty, and I have nothing. My mind is a complete blank. I start to panic. And at that moment, I happen to glance out my office window. And I see one of my neighbors coming out of his garage with his dog on a leash. It looks like he is about to take him for a walk. And then a delivery truck pulls up to his curb and parks. The driver emerges from the truck with a relatively large package in tow. The dog barks at him, and the closer the delivery guy comes, the louder the dog barks.

My neighbor, whose name is Jake tries to calm his dog down. He accidentally loses his grip on the dog leash, and the dog lunges at the UPS guy, and he drops the rather large package. I hear noises indicating that something fragile is in the package. And then Jake trips on the curb and falls flat on his face. Jake’s dog growls at the UPS guy, lunges at his leg, and bites down hard. As if he’s biting down on a raw steak or something. The UPS guy screams out expletives so loud that I can hear every word he says. The dog takes off down the street like a bat out of hell. The UPS guy is a close second. He looks mad as hell, and I fear for the dog’s life.

I can no longer see what is going on with UPS guy and the dog. I run to the front door, open it, and look from right to left. I don’t see either of them right away until I hear UPS guy still yelling profanities at the top of his lungs. Then I spy the dog running into our neighbor’s back yard across the street. I see Jake limping across the street and calling out Tuc a the top of his lungs. That’s the dog’s name, Tennessee Tuc. Now the dog, the UPS driver, and Jake are in the neighbors’ yard across the street.

This is the most excitement I’ve seen in our neighborhood in the five years. That’s how long we have lived here. And nothing, absolutely nothing happens here. It is a small development with twenty houses. One street runs through the development, and three streets end in cull-d-sacs. We rarely see anyone. Everyone has a garage, and they go in and out through their garages. If you’re lucky, you will catch one of the neighbors riding their lawnmowers and cutting their grass during the Spring and Summer. Otherwise, our neighborhood seems deserted. I’m not exaggerating. The neighbors do not talk to one another. Occasionally they will wave, but that is a rare occasion.

The next thing I see is a horse running across the street into our front yard. I guess you might be wondering where a horse came from. Well, believe it or not, there’s a horse farm behind our development. One day one of the horses opened the gate and took a walk across the street. And apparently, and decided to use our yard as a toilet. When I went outside, I found a large pile of horse shit. I walk across the street to the owner’s house and tell him, “one of your horses is in our yard. He doesn’t have a harness on him, so I couldn’t bring him home. He came over and took the horse home. Apparently, the horse’s name was Tina. Can you believe it?

Now, I’m having difficulty hearing or seeing what is going on. Since Jake and the dog and UPS guy are at the horse farm, the horses are becoming upset by the commotion. Tuc is barking, and Jake’s yelling for Tuc, and the UPS guy is screaming like a banshee because he is still mad as hell. Barring any common sense, I cross the street to investigate what is going on at the horse farm. Yeah, I don’t know their name either because I only saw the husband going in and out of his barn. And I never saw his wife at all. Can you believe it?

So, now I’m standing at a distance from the action, but not so far away that I can’t see and hear everything coming down. I feel like I’m watching a movie or something. I have no shame. And there is no end to how nosy I am capable of being. Well, we all have our faults. And this is mine.

Tuc is lunging at the UPS guy who has had about enough of the crap that he’s going to take. He starts picking up random rocks from the farmer’s backyard and propelling them at Tuc. At least I thought they were rocks until I got close enough to smell them. And I realize he’s pitching horse dung at Tuck and Jake. For some reason, I find this to be hysterical, and I start laughing so hard that I almost swallow my tongue.

That is when they all turned in my direction and became aware that I was watching them. Apparently, they don’t think this is an occasion for laughter. Because the next thing I know both Jake and UPS guy are picking up and propelling horse shit at me. I yell out, “Hey, what the hell did I do?”

And I get slammed two more times. And then we all look at each other and start laughing. Jake calls his dog over to him and grabs his collar. And then he turns towards the UPS guy and says, “I’m sorry about my dog biting you. Are you alright? Would you like to come back to my house and we can take a look at your bite? Maybe you would like to sit down and have a cup of coffee or something? You know my wife, Sharon, just made some awesome cornbread yesterday. Maybe you like to have some?”

And that is when I got a good look at Jake’s noggin and saw that he had acquired a huge red lump on his forehead from the header he took on his sidewalk. I had to clap my hand over my mouth because I had the strange and misguided idea that this was somehow really funny. I’m sure Jake wouldn’t agree.

I say, “Hey, I’m sorry for laughing. How about you all come over to my house and we can relax for a bit and calm down? And that is how I made my first couple of friends in the neighborhood. And I decided from now on I’m going to start making a more concerted effort to get to know my neighbors. And hopefully, I wouldn’t have to wait for another brawl to take place before I meet them.

It turns out we all had some things in common. Who would have thought? Not me. So, please take my advice, and don’t wait until people start throwing horse dung at you before introducing yourself to them. Life is too short.

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MAMA’S BOY

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Little Mama slowly opens her eyes and squints at the bright morning sun. The wind has died down. Last night she listened to the eerie melody the trees made as the wind blew its way through the woods. She made a nest of leaves and sticks and spent the night there as the storm rages on.

It isn’t raining anymore. Everything looks and smells differently. Branches are strewn all over, and a few trees have fallen onto the ground. Little Mama stands up unsteadily. She peers through the tree branches in search of a fallen bird nest.

Photo-sspiche3-Pixabay

If she’s lucky, maybe she can find a baby bird or two. Late yesterday when she left the nest in search of food, she knew there was a storm brewing. But she was hungry. She needs to eat so she could nurse her babies. They were sound asleep when she left.

But that was yesterday; anything could have happened to them by now. The kittens recently opened their eyes. As she is about to give up, she spies a baby bird lying lifelessly on the ground. She smells it and determines it hasn’t been dead that long and swallows it whole.

She leaps over the branches and debris along the path and makes her way back to her nest. Frighten that one of her kits wondered off. Last winter she had lost a litter due to her near starvation. Winter is never a good time to give birth. But she has little control over when these things happen.

As she makes her way over to the nest, she smells each of her mewling kittens. She realizes that one of them is missing. The one who always tried to climb out of the nest? Her heart sinks a little at the thought of another lost kit. Nature is cruel, and she’s learned the best way to deal with losses was with acceptance.

She’ll take care of the rest of her litter as best as she can until they’re able to take care of themselves. When they’re about six weeks old, she’ll begin to teach them how to hunt. She’ll wean them off her milk.

She lies down on her side in the nest. It’s a little damp but warm from the five kittens that lie sleeping bundled together. As soon as they sense their mother, they crawl over and find a place to nurse. They push and shove each other out of the way. Until finally, they all taste the sweet, warm milk, safe and warm. Little Mama sighs and falls into a fast sleep exhausted from her stormy adventure.

Big Red stumbles and cries. His stomach’s aching from hunger. He has looked for his mother all night. Finally, he gives up his search. He finds shelter in a hollow of a tree under some fallen leaves.

When the morning light wakes him, once again, his stomach’s growling, he has no memory of ever feeling this gnawing pain. He really can’t think about anything else. He even stops wondering what has become of his mother.

Just as he’s about to give up, he sees something fluttering just above his ahead. He doesn’t know what it is, but his instinct tells him to get it. He jumps as high as he can and grabs it with his sharp claws. He can hardly believe it. And he chomps down on it, and it stops moving. He swallows it. It tastes good.

It’s warm and fills his stomach the same as his mother’s milk had. He decides to find a place to take a nap. He starts walking through the woods until he sees another tree. Looking for a hollow place to sleep. He finds it and crawls under the musty leaves. He feels satisfied with himself.

He wonders what he’ll do next. And with that thought, he falls into a fast asleep. He dreams of how he caught the fluttering thing in the sky. And how he swiftly captured it. He feels safe.

He wakes up to an odd sound. He senses danger and looks from right to left. Trying to find the source of the strange noise. Without any warning, there is a movement right next to his bed. He lets out a frightened meow. And that is when he hears the strange noise again.

There’s a huge creature snuffling around him. Big Red is afraid that the creature will eat him, just as he had eaten the fluttering creature in the sky. He quickly ducks his head under the leaves and tries not to move.

“Daddy look., I think I just saw a little kitten in the leaves over here.”

“I doubt that, Chrissie, what would a kitten be doing out here in the woods all by itself? Come on, let’s go; your mother will be wondering what’s happened to us.”

Chrissie leans over and pushes the leaves out of the way. She yells excitedly.” Daddy look. It’s a kitten.”

Big Red knows he needs to get out of here. Or these giant creatures will surely make breakfast out of him. With that thought, he burst out of the leaves and runs through the wet leaves, and brush. He leaps over broken branches like the devil himself is chasing him. Of course, Big Red doesn’t know about the devil, but he knows something is chasing him. Something was about to make him their breakfast.

The next thing he knows, he is on a branch at the top of the tree. He has no real memory of climbing the tree. Let alone how he will ever get down again. The ground seems very, very far away. Big Red settles on the branch and digs his nails into it. But to his surprise, it’s comfortable. Maybe this will be his new home.

Chrissie and her father look up the tree. “Daddy look. The kitten is way up at the top of the tree. How will he get down? He’ll fall on the ground. Can you help him get down?”

“Chrissie, of course, he can get down by himself. He climbed, there didn’t he? He ran up there to get away from us. When we leave, he’ll come down out of the tree. And his mother is probably nearby and will come to get him. Let’s go home now; it’s getting late.”

“Oh, Daddy, please, please, please let me keep the kitten. I promise that I’ll take care of it.”

“No, Chrissie, that’s the same thing you said about the fish, and look what happened to him. Maybe when you are older, you can get a pet. Let’s go; it’s getting late.”

As the creatures start walking away, Big Red’s heart begins to beat more slowly. Suddenly a squirrel jumps onto the branch next to him. Big Red is so startled that he runs down the tree and is on the ground in a moment. He scampers over to his hiding place in the leaves.

He’s staring out through the leaves when something runs across his front paws. He lunges at it and grabs it with his sharp little claws. He holds it down. It is a strange creature, nothing like the giants that loomed above him earlier.

This is stranger yet, it’s small, and it feels hard and has many legs protruding from under its hard shell. Big Red tries to put it in his mouth. He feels it moving, not an all-together unpleasant feeling. He bites down on it. He finds it difficult. He opens his mouth slightly to get a better grip on it. Just as he is about to bite down again, he feels a sharp pain in his tongue. He opens his mouth wider, and the hideous creature makes his escape. Big Red decides to find something to eat that doesn’t try to swallow him first.

He feels and hears a weird feeling in his stomach. He knows it is because he needs to find something to eat soon. He looks around in every direction. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for now. But he knows that when he sees it, he will know then.

As he looks out from under the leaves, he hears a weird noise like something is moving near him. He looks toward the sound, and he sees something is moving near his feet underneath the leaves.

He jumps up, and all but flies onto the moving leaves. He slams his paws with their little sharp nails into the leaves. He captures whatever was moving.

He pushes the squirming thing into his mouth and bites it. It isn’t moving anymore, He swallows it. It stops moving. Soon his stomach stops aching, and Big Red decides to look for a safe place to live.

He stealthily heads through the forest in search of a new nest and something to stem his thirst and hunger, which doesn’t seem to rest for long. He spies an enormous tree surrounded by piles of leaves that have recently fallen from above. As he makes his way closer to the tree, he hears a familiar sound. He isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

__________________________________

LOVEY

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Lovey, the circus elephant

Lovey is exhausted and anxious. She’s been cooped up in the hot, dirty van for almost two days. Her legs are restless; she’s so thirsty that she begins to tremble. She trumpets her fear and discomfort for all to hear if anyone bothers to listen. She’s angry. She hasn’t felt anything for a long time, but she feels red-hot anger now. She rocks back and forth, hitting the sides of the van so violently that the van sways and rocks with her. The driver of the van yells, “Stop Lovey, stop” to no avail. He calls his boss on his cell phone. “You have to stop, so I can let Lovey out, or she’s going to cause herself and the van untold damage.”

The owner agrees to stop in the next empty lot he sees. And stay for the night, take care of the animals, and let everyone rest before their next performance. The last caravan pulls into the deserted parking lot well past midnight. Time and the sun have faded the painting of the bearded lady on the side of the van. But you can still clearly see her glamorous figure clad in a red, white, and blue ballerina tutu. Her glorious red beard is there for all to admire.

They had driven almost six hundred miles in the last two days. Everyone in the Three Ringed Circus is extremely tired, hot, and sweaty. It was getting harder and harder to find new venues. The public wants to see the glamour and incredible feats of courage and flying acrobats, doing death-defying acts. They want their animals wild, but safe, looking healthy and happy. But they weren’t getting that from Three-Ring Circus. It’s on the last leg of a journey that began its’ history in the early 1950s. Most of the famous performers have retired or moved on, or just disappeared from sight altogether.

When Gaucho pulls open the sliding doors to the van, Lovey trumpets as loud as she can, the only thing keeping her in the van is the shackles on her ankles. Gaucho has the bullock in his hand and shows it to Lovey. Usually, this is enough to calm her down. She knows from many years of experience that if it slaps against her sensitive skin, it will sting for a very long time and might well cut her. If the cut becomes infected, the circus doesn’t have a veterinarian on staff. And certainly, the little towns that they don’t have a wild animal vet. She would be a very sick elephant and might die from a simple injury. The circus often only had outdated medications and no money to spend on the care that these animals need. In the wild, elephants often walk up to fifty miles a day across the savanna and live as long as fifty years.

Animals kept in circuses, even the famous, moneyed ones lived an average of twelve years. Gaucho steps back, he knows this animal has tremendous power and weight behind her, but he’s never seen her like this. He has been her trainer for five years. He knows from talking to the other carnies that Lovey and has been with the circus for a long time. And that at one time, she had a mate, named Ganesha a massive elephant from India. He had sickened and died before a large animal vet could be found. Lovey had been very attached to him and mourned his death for many years. He was told that she was never the same after his death. She had refused to perform and sometimes refused to eat or drink.

She has a big heart, and the loss had broken it. Elephants are herd animals, and she was here alone with no other elephants. She was near animals that would have been a threat to her if she were still living in the wild. Her life with the circus was unnatural and very stressful for her and all the other wild creatures that are captive here.

Gaucho walks over to the supply truck and pulls out a wagon that contains water. Luckily, they had filled all the containers upon their last stop. He grabs a bucket and puts it in the wagon. He pulls down the ramp and hurriedly pulls the wagon down the ramp and over to the terrified and terrifying Lovey. He carefully slides the bucket next to her and fills it with water. Lovey’s about to kick the bucket away then, she realizes it’s water. She puts her trunk down into the bucket and sprays the water across her back and then again into the bucket and quenches her thirst. She feels momentarily relieved and quiets.

Gaucho slowly and carefully unchains her ankles. By this time, many of the circus performers and all of the grunts are standing behind Gaucho. “Stay back, fools, get away from here while I take care of Lovey. Unless you want to be pummeled into the earth.” Gaucho waits for a few moments then give Lovey the trunk-up signal. Lovey becomes enraged and begins trumpeting loudly and stamps her feet. There’s a look of fire in her eyes, and it’s at that moment that Gaucho knows to get the hell out of the way and shouts.” Run, run.” He follows his own good advice just in time,

Lovey charges out of the van and begins running, running for her life. In her mind, she sees before her the golden savanna grasses being blown by the soft breeze and the cool water of the elephant water hole of her youth in the distance. She’s determined to reach it at any cost. She will run down anything that tries to prevent her from arriving there. She’s saving her life. Her instinct for self-preservation kicks in, and she runs full tilt, there’s no stopping her.

Everyone who has been watching her now disappears into the wind, not wanting to be trampled by this behemoth that has lost her mind. Someone has called the coffer, and he arrives just in time to see the elephant charging his jeep. He quickly reaches behind him to get his rifle and aims it at her head and pulls the trigger, and then again for good measure. Lovey keeps moving momentarily before the message gets to her brain that she’s dead. And then she drops to the ground, finally free, free to travel the land of her birth, among her tribe. She sees her beloved Ganesha, she feels love fill her huge heart and then peace. __________________________________

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Writer's Blog by Susan A. Culver

Category Archives: Animal Stories

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As The Crow Flies

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REPEAT AFTER ME

TEA BREAK

THE MASKED BANDIT

Love Your Neighbors As You Love Your Enemies As They Are Probably One In The Same

MAMA’S BOY

LOVEY