Critters of Mossy Creek

by Deborah Smith

  “Will you talk to him, Casey? You can do more with both of them than I can.”

  “Yeah. Just because I’m some kind of miracle on leg braces, people feel sorry for me so they let me rattle on like I carry a fence around with me.”

  “Fence?” Hank frowned.

  “Yeah, the kind of fence people lean against and gossip. Speaking of fences, we didn’t check in the back of the pasture, but Sandy just called on her cell phone and said that Ed is probably down there working on the holding.”

  “He wasn’t there earlier. We checked.”

  “Maybe he’s there now.”

  Casey handed LiLi to Hank, drove her scooter onto the lift at the side of the van, and hit the Retrieve button. As she, LiLi, Possum and the scooter were lifted slowly toward the van’s open door, Casey asked, “When does the new mascot arrive, Hank?”

  “Next week.”

  “Let’s hurry and get the new paved pathway poured. If I can get to the barns and holding pen I can give Ed more of a hand with the ram. Without a paved path this scooter will bog down in the high grass.”

  “More of a hand with what?” Hank asked as he lifted Casey into the van’s seat and buckled LiLi into her child’s seat. Possum continued to watch them from the scooter’s basket, his jowly, hound-dog face seeming to grow longer, older, sadder.

  “Well,” Casey stalled. “I just thought I should keep an eye on Ed while he’s out there with that wild animal.”

  Hank laughed. “You can’t help Ed train the ram.”

  Casey lifted her chin and gave an, I’ll show you, look that Hank had seen before. When Casey’s girls’ softball team took the state championship again last year, Casey’s success as a coach who happened to be a partial paraplegic had been on the front pages of Georgia’s newspapers more often than Ham Bigelow’s re-election as Governor.

  “Look, Wonder Woman, you’ve accomplished a lot, but you still have a physical handicap, and you don’t speak Ram.”

  Casey chewed her tongue. She had a way with animals as well as people. When she’d taught Possum to sit quietly in the basket on her scooter as they went to ball practice, Hank hadn’t been surprised. Nor when Ed accepted the position of team “mother” and coaching assistant. As gruff as Ed was, he always looked after the little ones, whether they be human or animal. But that was before Ed and Possum got old.

  Hank leaned inside the van and gave Casey a hug. Nobody knew better than he how hard Casey had worked in the years they’d been married. Learning to walk with braces, learning to drive his mobile vet wagon, and traveling to a foreign country to adopt their daughter were milestones that made people forget about Casey’s handicap. Most believed Casey was just like everybody else. But helping Ed train a three-hundred-pound ram about which they knew nothing was not only dangerous but reckless.

  Hank didn’t know quite what he was going to do about his headstrong wife. Once Casey took on a challenge, she wasn’t likely to give up. So far she was dropping hints of wanting to adopt a second child and taking flying lessons, and now she wanted to help Ed during his training sessions.

  Hank scratched his head. She could drive a car, true, but flying a plane was demanding in a very different way. In any case, if Casey was going to take lessons he was going to have to bring in bigger bucks. A country vet operating the kind of second-generation practice Hank’s dad had set up made friends, not money. He hoped he could convince Casey that the Blackshears are four-legged animal people, not people who needed wings.

  Casey’s gaze swiveled past Hank. “There they are. Thank goodness.”

  Possum watched Ed and Miss Irene slowly walk up the sidewalk. Ed looked so old, so sad. Like me, Possum thought. Once Ed caught sight of the child, he perked up, but Casey shook her head.

  “Oh, Possum,” she whispered, turning to lay a hand on Possum’s head. “What will we do without Ed? And what will we do without you? I know you don’t understand lab reports, but I do.”

  Possum nuzzled LiLi and gave Casey’s hand a lick. He’d been wondering the same thing. What would they do without him?

  Ed had to train a replacement for the Mossy High School mascot. Who was going to help him? Who was going to chase the new ram back to the pasture when he escaped?

  And Casey’s leg had feeling coming back. When Possum had reared up and put his paws on her legs he could feel her muscles jerk. She’d need someone to lean on as she learned to walk again.

  And LiLi could learn to talk, but how could she do it by herself?

  The answer was, none of them could. That meant Possum had a job to do before he left. He had to train a replacement for himself.

  But where would he get one smart enough? And did he have enough time?

  ooo

  Two days later, Possum encountered a chubby little white dog wearing a silk nightgown—a dog he’d never seen before. In a private conversation in dog-talk, Possum learned that her name was Polly and she was about to give birth.

  Polly was a King Charles Spaniel who’d run away from home down in Bigelow because her owners planned to sell her puppies. People think animal mothers don’t grieve for their babies, but they do. Polly wanted—no, needed to keep her babies.

  Besides, as soon as the puppies were born her owners would discover that the father of this litter was not the champion Spaniel whose services they’d bought, but a charming hillbilly Polly met during a family camping trip. The puppies would be worthless mixed-breeds. They’d end up at an animal shelter. So Polly wanted to keep her babies, and she would disappear into the mountains and live in the wilds, if that’s what it took.

  When Possum heard her story, he made an offer that would solve all their problems—but it was an offer he had no idea how to implement. If he pulled it off, Polly could keep her babies, Ed would socialize the ram, LiLi would begin to speak, and Possum would have the replacement companion Ed would need when he was gone.

  It would take careful planning to make his scheme work. For now he had to convince Polly to return home—wherever that was. Then he had to contact Professor Sagan’s amazing bird—the one who appeared and disappeared in some mysterious way that nobody understood. Normally birds and non-flying creatures didn’t communicate, but this was an extraordinary bird . . . and Possum needed some extraordinary help.

  It was midnight when Possum carefully tip-toed down the carpeted stairs at Magnolia Manor and through the doggie door to the outside. Half an hour later he was standing at the base of Colchik Mountain giving his best rendition of a creature alert.

  One eerie call after another echoed up the mountain. Bird to bird. Coyote to raccoon. Owl to fox. Squirrel to rabbit.

  Then suddenly a large, white, mythical creature soared silently across the moon and came to rest on a fence post. It cocked its head toward Possum, and he moved hesitantly toward it.

  “What can I do for you, my friend?”

  Possum explained what he needed, and the large, ghostly bird nodded.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He flew away.

  Possum shivered in the coolness of the springtime mountain air, but he waited patiently for the bird to return. Nearly an hour later, he saw the lovely creature approaching.

  “I made an agreement with the ram,” the bird said. “The ram will allow Ed to teach him. Not obviously. You know how sheep are. They have to keep up their ornery reputation. But he won’t give Ed too much trouble, and he will proudly represent the spirit of Mossy Creek.”

  Possum lowered his head in gratitude. When he looked up, the bird was gone.

  Now there was a button-eyed child with sad vacant eyes who needed to know she could speak. How could a dog that couldn’t speak teach words to a child who couldn’t talk?

  “Don’t worry, my friend,” the whisper came through the gauzy sheet of fog that drifted down from the mountain. “You’ll work it out.”

  For the next week, Possum spent at least an hour with Ed and the ram, marveling at the presence of Sagan’s white bird—hidden, but always nearby.
r />   One morning, Ed went out on his old front porch and dropped into the swing.

  “You know, Ellie, old girl,” Ed said to the spirit of his dead wife. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to finish what I promised.”

  Possum put his front feet on Ed’s knees and whined. When Ed helped him climb into the swing, Possum laid his head on Ed’s knees, crying softly.

  ooo

  An hour later, Casey left the veterinary clinic for her daily scooter drive to the square. When she saw Ed on the swing at his old farmhouse, she stopped.

  “You okay, Ed?” she called.

  “Just feeling a little low today,” he answered and struggled to his feet.

  “What are you doing? You’re going to fall.” But her words were too late.

  Ed crumpled against the porch rail.

  Casey screamed for Hank and started to cry.

  Possum howled.

  By the time Hank ran down the walk and reached Ed’s house, Casey had used her cell phone to call Doc Champion.

  “Con sarn it,” Ed swore when Hank tried to help him up. “I been going up and down these steps since the war.” He grabbed the rail and attempted to pull himself up. “The big one. Got through that all right, and I reckon I can stand up without your help.”

  But he couldn’t.

  Possum watched in dismay. His heart played a drum roll in his chest.

  As the EMTs, led by Sandy’s brother, Boo Bottoms, were about to load Ed into the ambulance, he called, “Stop! Where’s Possum?”

  Boo picked up Possum and placed him on the gurney beside Ed.

  After much poking and x-raying at Mossy Creek’s small emergency clinic, Dr. Champion stood between Hank and Casey and frowned down at Ed. “I’ve been telling you that you have to slow down. Now I’m ordering you to. If you plan to play Santa in this year’s parade, or anywhere else, you have to do what I say.”

  He turned toward Possum and shook his finger. “And that goes for you, too, you old hound dog.”

  Both patients reluctantly agreed, though Possum didn’t want to.

  How was he going to fulfill his promise to bring Ed another dog?

  ooo

  Near midnight, a shrill keening sound echoed through the mountains that overlooked Mossy Creek.

  Sagan’s bird.

  Possum struggled to his feet and made his way downstairs to the porch at the back of the Manor. The bird flapped transparent wings and hovered overhead until Possum understood he was to follow the bird out of town.

  After Possum made his way into the countryside he heard a pasture gate open at Ed’s farm, and soon the ram joined them. The ram knelt down and allowed Possum to ride on his back. Then they followed the bird up the mountain.

  After a few minutes, they reached a cave hidden by a large rock. Sagan’s bird perched on a fallen tree limb. From inside the cave came a weak, mewling sound.

  Possum dug through debris hiding the entrance and found Polly weakly cleaning a tiny white ball that seemed almost lifeless. Her baby. She hadn’t gone home like he’d asked her.

  As Possum watched, Polly worked to clean her pup, but looked as if she could barely manage.

  Moments later, the pup squirmed from its birth sac, squeaking impatiently for it’s mother’s attention. But it wasn’t to be.

  Polly rested her head on the cave floor and shut her eyes. Possum saw that giving birth alone had not been her best idea. She’d had trouble and wasn’t going to make it. She was trusting her baby’s future to an old hound dog.

  Now all Possum had to do was get Polly’s baby safely to Ed. But how?

  The ram leaned inside the cave and knelt down for Possum to climb back up on his back. Possum gently took the tiny pup into his mouth before slowly climbing up.

  Sagan’s bird perched on the ram’s neck and spread its wings like a cloak to keep the pup warm.

  They hurried back down the mountain.

  ooo

  At dawn Casey Blackshear sat on her back porch watching the sunrise as she held her daughter in her arms. “Oh, my darling, LiLi,” she whispered. “I love you. If I could only hear you say you love me, too.”

  Then she saw it—the most curious sight she’d ever seen. From the direction of Ed’s house came a white animal, its antlers alabaster in the light of the sun.

  LiLi stirred, making a sleepy sound.

  Casey turned and called through the backdoor screen, “Hank?”

  “I’m here,” he whispered, stepping onto the porch. “I see it. Lord have mercy. If that doesn’t beat all.”

  It was Ed’s ram, gently opening the gate with one horn before walking toward the porch. Possum rode on its back.

  “Possum’s carrying something, Casey.”

  Hank hurried into the yard, reached out gingerly and lifted Possum off the ram’s back. The young sheep moved away as if he did this kind of thing every day. As Hank set Possum on the ground, Possum gently dropped the tiny pup into Hank’s hand. It cried softly.

  Hank carried the tiny pup to his wife and daughter. “Look, LiLi, it’s a puppy. A baby dog, LiLi. Possum has brought us a puppy.”

  LiLi smiled and reached out toward the little pup. “Possum’s baby,” she said in wonder. “Ed’s Possum’s baby.”

  Casey and Hank gasped. LiLi had never spoken like this before. Through tears of joy they beamed down at her daughter. “Yes, LiLi. That’s right.”

  Hank looked the pup over carefully. “Newborn. I’d say in the last few hours. Seems healthy, though. Wonder where it came from.”

  “I don’t know what’s happening here,” Casey said, “but let’s take the baby to Ed. I feel that’s what Possum means for us to do.”

  “Give me a minute to clean the pup up, then I’ll drive,” he said.

  A few minutes later, he helped Casey into the van and fastened LiLi into her car seat. Possum stretched out on the back seat, breathing heavily. Casey cuddled the pup on her lap.

  At the nursing home, Casey spotted her father’s car. She knew without being told that Doc Champion was there for Ed. Possum whined.

  “We’ll get there in time, Possum,” she murmured.

  Hank unfolded Casey’s wheelchair and guided her into it, then settled LiLi into her mother’s lap. The pup nestled in LiLi’s lap. Hank lifted Possum from the van and carried him as Casey rolled her chair by the wheel guides. They started inside.

  “Hurry,” Miss Irene called from a hallway, her thin blue hands clutching the front of her robe. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  Dr. Champion told them somberly that Ed was almost gone. Hank laid Possum on the bed beside him and guided the old dog’s head to Ed’s shoulder. Casey gently placed the pup on Ed’s barely moving chest.

  LiLi let out a joyous laugh. “Possum’s baby,” she said.

  Words, Possum thought as he settled into his master’s arms for the last time. From a dog who can’t talk to a child who now can.

  The adults didn’t notice as shadows crossed the sky outside a window. But LiLi saw, and nobody argued when years later she swore that she’d seen an old man, a little white dog and a happy hound following a big white bird with wings that reached toward the mountain top. Possum’s puppy mewled as Ed’s chest stopped moving beneath him and Possum’s last breath warmed his face.

  Possum’s baby knew that love lives on.

  And so did LiLi.

  Mossy Creek Gazette

  Volume VII, No. Nine • Mossy Creek, Georgia

  Mossy Creek’s Beloved Santa

  and His Four-Legged Elf are Gone

  Edward Alton Brady, Sr., one of our most revered Creekite citizens, has died. Ed’s well-known hound dog friend, Possum, has died as well, as if knowing that Ed and his wife Ellie need him to chase the rabbits out of their garden in Heaven.

  Ed Brady was a proud war veteran, an esteemed farmer, a respected volunteer fireman, a loving if grumpy husband, neighbor and father, and a loyal friend. He married Ellie shortly after WW II and they set up housekeeping at historic Brady F
arm, one of the oldest farms in Mossy Creek. Ed is survived by his son, Ed Brady Jr., a successful computer game inventor who moved back to Mossy Creek in recent years. The reunion brought Ed and Ed, Jr. together after a long period of estrangement, and we’re happy to report that they became very close.

  Ed is perhaps best known for playing Santa in the Mossy Creek Christmas parade every year since 1952. Creekites young and old have fond memories of skinny Ed in a padded Santa suit, perched atop a fire truck as it crept up Main Street. He tossed candy to all the children and, it was suspected, gleefully tried to pelt some of the naughtier kids (and adults) on their heads. Adele Clearwater will never forgive him.

  Creekites will always remember Ed’s devotion to Ellie. After a stroke confined her to Magnolia Manor Nursing home, he arrived every morning to feed her breakfast. Although Alzheimer’s darkened Ellie’s mind, Ed found ways to break through to her memories of their years together. Her response to Ed’s “ugly Christmas tree” is but one of many heartfelt times the couple shared despite Ellie’s failing health.

  Ed never quite recovered from her death a few years ago, but still managed to cause an occasional ruckus. After the state revoked his driver’s license due to poor eyesight, Ed turned to his old John Deere as transportation. During one of his more notable drives into town, Ed and his tractor were run into a ditch by Governor Ham Bigelow’s limousine. Ed suffered a broken leg but, happily, was soon able to afford cataract surgery thanks to the much-harassed governor’s grudging settlement. We applaud Ed for adding his name to the long roster of Creekites who have merrily tweaked Ham Bigelow’s pompous pride.

  Ed was rarely seen without Possum by his side. They were a team. Possum had a strong intuition for those in need, most of all for Ed, who prized Possum’s friendship despite a sometimes rocky relationship due to both of them being independent and stubborn. Possum leaves behind a son who will be raised with great love by Hank, Casey and Lili Blackshear.

  We’ll miss Ed and Possum every day of the year, but especially at Christmas. It’s sad but fitting that they left this earth together. We’re sure Ellie was waiting for them with open arms.