by Connie Foss
“Well, Elliott, since I can’t be there, could you be my eyes and ears?”
“Your what?”
“I mean you watch and then come back and tell me what’s happening. After all, you are a rat, and when people tell a secret, they say that they are ratting on someone. So, it seems appropriate that you do the spying, doesn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t miss it! I’ll sneak around and nobody will ever know I’m there. I’m off,” and all I see is Elliott’s tail as he scurries back under the door.
Chapter Nine:
I’m An Uncle
Elliott is true to his word and relays progress reports regularly. By morning he reports success and all is well. “You should see that rascal! Yes, yes, yes. She’s a spittin’ image of her ma…a white star middle of her forehead and the rest chocolate brown.” Elliott’s messages are always so fast and jerky that it’s hard to understand, but I get it: I am an uncle.“She’s not anxious to stand up, but she’s thinking about it. Her mom’s cleaning her up.”
Chores in the stable are a bit delayed, probably because of the sleep missed keeping Julie company as she gave birth. But there’s a
isn’t his usual grumpy self, but is…well, pleasant.
what Tom said about all the horses that are coming to be in our pasture. Is Annie here? Oh, I wish I knew!
will come get me for our fun time, when here’s Tom, hopping up in front of me.
He likes to rub his back along the bars of my stall, and as he purrs he says,
“Well, lover boy, from what I hear’d the gals say, you are one…hot… dude. They’re all gigglin’ and nickerin’ ‘bout what a hunk Sir Hershey is. That is you, huh? That’s your real name? Bein’ such a good fren’, I tol’ those gals to jes cool it, ‘cause as fur as I can see, you’re jes a big lummox, who slobbers his grain all o’er the stall.”
them is Annie?”
“Talk at cha later…gotta go,” and he was gone before I could The day is pretty normal, except when Julie and her baby girl
beautiful Arabian dish. Julie gets a step or so ahead of her, and you should hear the musical whinny coming out of that little girl! “Hey, Jules! Look at her…she is wonderful. Congratulations!
You’re a mother! I guess you really did fall in love with Geoffrey.” “Oh, yes, I did, Bubba, and I hope we’ll stop by his stall and let
him meet his new daughter. He’ll be so proud.” And they are gone. But
just thinking about it puts a spring in my step.
When Meg takes me over the jumps later, she says,“Bubba, look
how far you cleared the jumps today. Having a foal around the stable
puts a spring in your step, huh, big guy.”
I can’t remember what it was like when Julie and I were little,
and I’ve never been around a foal since, so I really don’t know if Meg is
right.
Chapter Ten:
Searching for Annie
Dreams about growing up with Julie are romping through my head when suddenly the lights go on in the stable.What…in the middle of the night?
“Hey,Tom, what’s cooking? Why the lights?”
Tom is in the corner of my stall busily chomping down on a dead mouse, but he takes time to answer.“Don’t know, Matey, but I hear Meg and Bill hollerin’.”
And I do too, but what I hear more is the wind rattling the shingles on the roof and a door banging somewhere. Just then Julie and the baby come running down the aisle, and with them other horses.
“Julie, what’s happening?” I scream at her. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, but Meg said to run, so we are,” and then to the foal,“Baby, stay close to me. It’s alright,” and they are gone out the door into the pasture.
“Bubba, there’s a terrible storm coming, may be a tornado, and
Percy’s, and Percy and I take off after Julie.
my mouth as I whinny for Julie. Then I see her with Baby, hunkering
“Bubba, I’m so scared,” she screams back, “I’ve never been in a wind like this. What’ll we do?” The howl of the wind is deafening, and
“The only thing we can do is wait and know Bill and Meg will take care of us,” I say to reassure Julie.“They turned us out to keep us safe…the stable might get blown down or something.We’d better stay as far away from it as we can.”
The other horses must be thinking the same thing, for they’re crowding around us.There’s lots of whinnying and screaming for we are unsettled, unsure what is going on.
One of the voices seems familiar. I listen as carefully as I can, trying to sort it out from the wind and other voices. It just might be… Oh, it’s probably just wishful thinking. Then I hear it again. Could it be Annie? Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and I scream into the wind,“Annie!”
There seems to be an answer, but I’m not sure, so I try again, “Annie!”
“Julie, remember when I came back from a show and told you about Annie?” I remind Julie. “It was the same time you told me about falling in love with Geoffrey. Well, I think I just heard her calling me. She
I shove my way between jostling horses, shouldering through the crowd, still calling Annie’s name.
“Stop pushing me around! Who do you think you are? Oh, it’s
death.” It’s Prince, and Josie is his constant companion…a little black
came to stay with us, he was a wild creature, kicking and screaming and cribbing. Every night you could hear him sucking in air as he clamped his mouth on the edge of his feed tub or the wood of his stall.Then when Meg put this little tiny goat into his stall to keep him company, Prince became a decent part of our family. Now, without Josie by his side, he’s back to his wild state.
“Josie must be really worried…she depends on you so much. I’ll
please tell her I’m looking for her.”
“What’s she look like? Do I know her?” Prince and I have always
gotten along, and he seems to be thinking about others, too, in spite of
his worry about Josie.
“No, you don’t know her, but she looks like…well, she looks
…she looks beautiful. She’s a dark bay and she just…just looks like
something you want to eat, she is so sweet.” I know I sound crazy, but
it’s what I feel.
the storm so upsetting and being in a new place, she must be frantic.
beyond where Julie and Baby are. I run back to be sure they’re okay and then continue running and screaming for Annie. Branches and boards are blowing by, sometimes hitting me, but I can’t stop. I can’t! I won’t
Chapter Eleven:
Annie
When the sun peaks over the horizon, we can see what’s left after the storm. It’s unreal.There’s no stable or feed shed.They’re gone, swept away, replaced by someone’s awning, a car and a broken manure spreader, plus branches and even whole trees, roots ripped out of the ground. Fences no longer separate pastures and lots, for there are no fences. How can the sun shine when our world is torn apart?
It has been a long night of terror, which I have spent mostly with
the awning, but he is not the same guy. He found Josie.Yes, he did. But Josie is dead. Killed by a blow from a branch which broke her back. She looks so pathetic lying there, all broken. I’m sure Prince knows she’s dead, but he won’t leave her. I spent some time standing with him, but I could offer little comfort.
“Oh, Bubba, Bubba!” I hear Meg calling from what used to be the driveway. It’s Meg and Bill picking their way through the debris as fast as they can. “Are you alright? Oh, Bubba!” and Meg throws her arms around my neck and sobs, great, big, heart-wrenching sobs. Bill is
Bill and Meg, worry on their faces, turn to look for other horses. Seeing Prince, they work their way over to him, and there lies Josie on the ground, broken. Bill picks her up and carries her over to us, while Prince follows, head down, feet dragging.
“What are we going to do
, Bill? I don’t see the other horses.And
know they must be really hungry and thirsty, but what are we going to do? What are we going to do?” and Meg breaks down again. lucky the tornado missed that.We can either put them in the garage or in the fenced garden. I’ll get some buckets from the basement and give
By the time we get to the house, and Bill puts us in the fenced garden with buckets of water, a stream of pickup trucks start pulling up to the house. Other farms were not demolished like ours, and the
Later in the morning, forklifts and bulldozers come roaring in to begin clearing the debris. Other pickups are loaded with fence posts and boards so the Chocolate Farm will again be able to hold some of us.
Meg’s mom is in the kitchen, along with several of the local women, putting together food and coffee for all of the volunteers. Bill and Meg are rushing here and there supervising and doling out their thanks to everyone. “This is unbelievable,” I hear Bill say to Meg, “that
even know us.”
“You know, Bill, if we have nothing else left, we at least have the
hope they’re giving us. During the night I didn’t have any hope. Now I
have hope we can rebuild. There’ll be a way.”
By afternoon,horse trailers begin to show up,unloading Whisper
and Geoffrey, and even Percy. By evening, all of the horses have been
found and reassigned to other farms.As one of the horses is unloading,
I hear her whinnying. It’s Annie!
“Annie,” I whinny back.“I’m over here!” I can see her from the
garden…and she sees me! Yes, there is hope. I have found Annie.
Chapter Twelve:
Long days
I’m puzzled, for Annie doesn’t seem the same as she was when
But Annie isn’t the only thing that has changed. My whole world is different. Now I’m spending the whole show season in a stall on a farm far from home. It isn’t even a horse farm but a dairy. There are barns full of black and white cows, who are friendly enough, but we don’t share anything in common.
Meg comes to see me occasionally, and she looks pretty rough, but she tries to be cheerful.“Bubba, how are you, big guy? I miss seeing you everyday and our jumping with you. I’ll bet you miss that, too, but we’ll get back to normal sometime. Just not yet.”
I wonder about the shows and about Annie, and Julie, and Baby. Where is everyone? I spend my days just looking over the stall door at a world that is so disappointing.
Two people live in the old farmhouse that’s just up the drive from this shed I’m in.The man is pretty crippled, but he hobbles in to see me every morning and evening, when he’s doing his other chores. He’s friendly enough and gives me a pat on my nose when he dumps a can of oats into a feed box that’s nailed in the front corner of the stall. This morning he’s staying and talking a bit.
“So your name’s Bubba,” he says as he leans over the stall door. “Mine’s Elmer, and my old lady is Elizabeth.There ain’t been any horses
all the time, even showed her horse Isabelle in jumping shows. But now that she’s all crippled up with arthritis, we have no use for a horse.
“You seem like a pretty good fellow…sure tall enough.Elizabeth’s been poorly lately, and hasn’t even gotten outdoors since you came. I tell her about you and what Bill said about you and your jumping, so she’s right anxious to see ya. I reckon if she don’t get better soon, I’ll just have to take you up to the house so she can see ya through the winder.”
It’s nice having Elmer talk to me. The days are so long with nothing to do. Today has been especially long, but it’s night now and maybe I can settle down and at least sleep.
“Hoo, hoo, hiss, hiss. Hoo, hoo.”
Where’s that voice coming from? Somewhere out there. The
stall door, and I think I see the shape of what might be a big bird up in the branches. Probably not.And yet… Could it be Mr. O? No, he would need a fancier barn than this to call home. But what if it is?
“Is that you, Mr. O?” I ask hesitantly, not at all sure. “Hiss-hoo else would it be,Bubba? I’ve been on a quest,searching
are you, dear sir?”
“I’m so glad to see you, Mr. O, but I can’t see you very well.
Would you be so kind as to come sit on my stall door?”
With a whoosh and a sudden stop, Mr. O perches on the door.
He looks as big and imposing as ever, but I notice some feathers seem
to be missing on his tail. “Mr. O, what’s happened to you? Did you get
hurt in the tornado?” That must be what happened to those feathers. “No, dear sir, I was fortunate to be spending that night in the
company of an elegant lady owl in a nearby village.Those feathers left
me when I was in a bit of a disagreement, shall we say, with another owl,
who objected to my visit with the lady. I might add that he lost more
feathers than did I.”
I can’t help but nicker at that story, but I am so happy to have
Mr. O to talk to that I let that story go without comment. Instead,“Mr.
O, do you know where Julie and Baby are, and Percy? I really miss our
gang, and I worry about them, especially Julie and Baby.”
“Since that disaster, I have appointed myself as a committee
of one to ascertain everyone’s whereabouts. And, I might add, I have
been highly successful. Rest assured, dear sir, that all are safe, healed
of any injuries they sustained, but most unhappy in their scattered
accommodations.” Mr. O stops to groom his feathers a bit, probably
chasing off a mite.
“Oh, thank you. I am so relieved to hear that.That includes Tom
and Elliott, right?”
“Oh, I forgot about those creatures, not feeling them important
enough to mention. However, I am of course saddened to tell you,
my humble opinion seemed excessive for a rodent. But hiss-hoo am I to judge? Tom himself and his family are hanging out at Gretchen’s, where Julie and Baby are.”
couldn’t I have gone there instead of here? It’s not fair! Julie doesn’t jump. She doesn’t need the jumping like I do. It’s just not fair!” Whoa,
Mr. O is too, for he swoops off the door and back to the safety of the tree.
“Well, I declare, Bubba, I note you have become a very callus being, thinking only of yourself. Would you rather have Julie and Baby shut in this stall, while you go prancing around and hopping up and down over your juvenile jumps? Is your comfort more important than your sister’s and little Baby’s?”
shrunk so much that all I could think about was what was happening to me…not giving much of a thought to anyone else? Mr. O could well be right.
“In parting, Mr. Bubba, I will leave you with a message that I’m sure you will be pleased to receive: The stable is almost rebuilt. There are fences, there is feed, and soon, one glorious morning a trailer will pull up in the yard, and you will be on your way home. See you there,” and, with swift but silent wings, Mr. O is gone.
Chapter Thirteen:
Home
Dorothy had it right, there really is no place like home, and I am rolling in the incredible glory of it. I am home.The sun is shining. Life is good.
Bill came out to Elmer’s yesterday and picked me up in the trailer. Julie and Baby were already in the trailer when I walked up the ramp. Such a joy: to see my sister and her foal, who has grown and blossomed these months at Gretchen’s.
“Baby, this is your Uncle Bubba, the wonderful jumper I told you about,” Julie tells Baby.
“Oh,” is all Baby can come up with, but under her breath I hear, “Big deal.”
Well, I can see trouble ahead for Julie. A spoiled foal can only mean trouble. But I’m not going to let that grumpy thought stop my happiness.After Bill leads me to my brand new stall, he says, as he gives me a pat, “Well, Bubba, how do y
ou like your new home? You can see you have a much bigger stall. In fact, all of the stalls are bigger. But wait until you see the indoor arena. It’s so big, you’ll think you’re at a show! Who would have thought such good could come out of a tornado. I know it’s been rough for you over at Elmer’s, but the hope our friends gave us has grown into all of this. Just wait though, there’s something that will please you even more, I expect. But I’m sure Meg will clue you in.”
After Bill takes off my halter and latches my new stall door, I’m so busy checking out the smooth shiny stall that I don’t pay attention to the thought Bill planted, buried in the back of my head: something that will please me even more.
“Hey, Bubba, ain’t this here the neatest hangout?” It’s Tom, and it’s so good to see my old one-eyed friend. He looks none the worse for wear and seems quite jaunty, in spite of having only one eye.“But it ain’t what it’s cracked up to be, for all the old rat holes and mouse nests are gone. Makes it harder to catch my supper for there jes ain’t no gray, four-legged, long-tailed suppers runnin’ roun’. But the kids is all growed and out on their own now, so there’s jes me. ‘Nuff of that. Here’s the kicker:When the last load of hay bales came, guess what was hidin’ in ‘em?”
“Mice?”
“No, even better; the cutest…wrong word…the most beautiful, sleek, long-haired, glamorous, elegant cat you can imagine.An’ this vision, Ms Angora, is all mine. But wait, here she comes now, slinkin’ along on those precious tiny paws. Here, Angie, you gotta meet Bubba, the king of the stable.”
Slowly ambling down the broad aisle as though in a parade with the whole world watching, comes Ms Angora. Her luxurious tail waving
hair swaying, totally hiding her legs.As she gets closer, she gracefully lifts her head and, as she disdainfully looks up, I see haughty eyes and a little pinched up pouty mouth.
“Bubba? Really…Bubba? Well, I must admit you are most appealing, but how could a handsome creature, such as I see before me, have an ugly low-brow name?” Is this white cat buttering me up? What could she be after?
