Fluffy & Freckles Special Edition

by Ellen Miles

  “Freckles!” Dad said, pulling on the leash. “Leave the lamb alone. He needs to settle in without your help.” He took Freckles over to the kitchen and poured some kibble into his bowl. “I don’t know, Steve. Looks like we really have our hands full here. And there’s still the sugaring to do.”

  Steve cleared his throat. “Yup, and there’s one other thing,” he said, gesturing to the window. “I forgot to mention the news I heard at the post office, about a big fast-moving snowstorm coming our way. The weather people are predicting a foot or more during the day today, and overnight.”

  “What?” Dad asked.

  Steve nodded at the window. “Looks to me like it’s already started.”

  Charles looked out the window. “Wow!” he said. Steve was right. Giant flakes were spinning through the air, carried by gusting winds that tossed the branches on the trees. He felt like the cabin was inside a snow globe that some giant had just shaken. Steve didn’t seem to think it was a big deal, but Charles knew that back at home, a snowstorm like this would close the schools and roads.

  “That’s March in Vermont for you,” Steve said. “You never know what’s around the corner. The weather can change in minutes. On the plus side,” he added, “if it’s cold enough to snow, the sap probably won’t be running today, so we don’t have to go around and empty buckets. We can finish boiling off what we already have in the tank and then just batten down the hatches and get cozy for the night.”

  “You mean—” Dad began.

  Steve nodded. “I think it’s best if you two stay here with me tonight. Between the snow and the critters, I think I could probably use some help.”

  Charles smiled and hugged the sleeping lamb on his lap. This was turning out to be the best spring vacation ever.

  Charles spent the whole rest of the afternoon in the cabin. The wind howled and the snow swirled outside, but inside it was warm and cozy. Charles was happy to take care of Fluffy while Dad and Steve finished boiling up the sap in the tank. Freckles mostly stayed outside with them, though he barked at the door now and then to see if Fluffy was ready to play.

  It turned out that Steve had been right about Fluffy being fine once he’d had some formula. The lamb stopped trembling and bleating, and by the time he finished the first bottle he was ready to get down off Charles’s lap and explore the cabin. He was so cute as he scampered around on his tiny hooves. He checked everything out, from the plants on the windowsill to the stack of CDs by the bookcase. His tail wagged just like a dog’s as he pawed at things that interested him, and his little ears moved around like radar antennae. And boy, could he jump. The first time Charles saw Fluffy leap onto the couch, he was shocked. It was like the lamb had little springs in his feet, and he loved to bounce around. Once, when Charles was down on all fours trying to play with him, Fluffy even bounced right onto Charles’s back!

  When the lamb began bleating again, Charles knew exactly what to do. “Food is coming,” he told Fluffy. “Hold on just a sec.” Steve had showed him how to mix the formula. Charles quickly made up a bottle, then took it over to the couch and held it while Fluffy sucked hungrily on the nipple. Charles loved holding Fluffy while he ate. The lamb’s curly coat was so springy and soft, and it was so entertaining to watch his little nose wriggle and his little ears swivel this way and that.

  This time when he finished eating, Fluffy curled up on Charles’s lap and went right to sleep. “Nap time for little lambies,” Charles whispered, as he stroked the lamb’s soft coat. “That’s right. You need your rest.” Fluffy sighed and nestled in more comfortably. Charles kissed the top of his head. Fluffy smelled so good—kind of woolly, actually, like Charles’s favorite red sweater.

  A few minutes later, Charles’s stomach began to growl. He’d been so busy feeding Fluffy that he’d forgotten to feed himself. But now he was stuck sitting there on the couch until the lamb woke up. Charles tried to ignore his grumbling tummy, but all he could think about was the giant sandwich he was going to make as soon as he could.

  Finally, Fluffy woke up. He blinked at Charles, then gave himself a little shake and leapt down onto the floor to continue his explorations. Charles jumped up, too, and headed straight for the kitchen. If he was hungry, Dad and Steve must be, too. He made three big sandwiches and gobbled down half of his own while he mixed another bottle of formula. He knew that Fluffy was probably going to start bleating any minute, so he might as well be ready.

  Sure enough, Charles had barely finished getting the formula mixed before Fluffy began to bleat again. Sighing, Charles grabbed one more bite of sandwich, then brought the bottle over to the couch. The lamb jumped right up and began to drink as if he was starving. This time, when Fluffy finished the bottle, Charles settled the lamb between some pillows on the couch. He loved having Fluffy sleep on his lap, but he didn’t want to get trapped again. “I’ve got to bring lunch out to Dad and Steve,” he said to Fluffy. “You be a good lambie and have a nice nap. I’ll be right back.”

  Charles put the sandwiches on a plate and pulled on his boots. When he pushed the back door open, he gasped. Swirling snow surrounded him, the wind pushing flakes into his eyes, his nose, his mouth. “Wow!” he said. He could hardly even make out the sugar shack through the curtain of white.

  Then he saw something moving, brown spots against the white. “Freckles!” he said. The puppy bounded happily through the snow toward him, ears flapping. He didn’t seem at all fazed by the blizzard.

  Freckles sniffed at the plate in Charles’s hands. He gave Charles a sideways look and a grin, wagging his tail hopefully.

  Maybe you’ve got some treats for me there?

  Charles smiled and shook his head at the little brown-and-white pup. Freckles already seemed completely at home here. It was too bad that Steve didn’t want any pets. “This is for the people, Freckles,” he said. “But if you want to come inside with me after I deliver it, I’ll give you some kibble.” Charles knew Freckles wouldn’t understand everything he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Dogs liked it when you talked to them and explained things.

  Charles pushed on, stomping through the snow toward the sugar shack. The sap was boiling hard, and Charles could smell the sweet scent of almost-syrup.

  “Hurray!” said Steve when he saw Charles coming. He was chopping wood, but he put down his hatchet and came over to take a sandwich. He brushed the snow off his jacket and smiled at Charles. “Our hero. I’m starving.”

  “So am I,” Dad said. He stoked the fire one more time, throwing chunks of wood into the roaring blaze beneath the boiling sap. Then he stood up and helped himself, taking half a sandwich in each hand. “Thanks a lot, Charles.” He took a big bite of the one in his right hand. “Yum! You’re getting good at this. Maybe I’ll start asking you to make my lunches when we’re home.”

  Charles ducked his head. He liked making Dad happy.

  “We’ve already made three gallons of syrup,” Steve reported. “Just a bit more to boil off and we’ll be done for the day.”

  “How’s the lamb doing?” Dad asked. “I mean, Fluffy.”

  “He’s great. He’s already had three bottles,” said Charles.

  “Nice work,” said Steve. “I knew you’d be good at this.”

  Charles ducked his head again. “He’s probably hungry again by now,” he said. “I better get back in there.” He was beginning to realize what a big responsibility it was to take care of a baby lamb. No wonder Steve had been happy for the help. Charles hurried through the snow and let himself back into the cabin. It was a relief to shut the door and leave the snow and wind outside.

  It was quiet inside the cabin, very quiet. Charles did not hear any bleating. That was good. Maybe Fluffy was still napping. But where was he? The lamb was not on the couch where Charles had last seen him.

  “Where are you?” he called, looking all around for Fluffy. Then he spotted the little lamb, curled up on the bed of towels near the woodstove—with Freckles right next to him.

  “
Oh, no!” Charles said. Steve had told him to keep the animals apart. How could this have happened? Had the wind pushed the door open? Maybe Charles hadn’t latched it all the way when he went out. He rushed over, ready to pull Freckles away. But as he got closer, he saw that there was no need to worry. The lamb and the puppy both looked perfectly happy curled up together. It was obvious that Freckles wasn’t going to hurt Fluffy. The lamb’s eyes were almost closed, and he had that funny smiling expression on his face. Freckles was relaxed, lying with one paw over his new friend’s shoulder. The pup looked up at Charles and thumped his tail.

  I found myself a buddy. Isn’t he the best?

  Charles smiled at Freckles and bent to pet him. “Good boy,” he said. “That’s a good, gentle boy.” At that, Fluffy leapt to his feet and began bleating. Charles burst out laughing. “Yes, Fluffy. You’re a good boy, too. But you’re a lamb, not a puppy, remember?”

  Fluffy bleated and pranced, sproinging around the room. Freckles scrambled after him, and the two animals had a quick game of chase. First Fluffy chased Freckles, then Freckles chased Fluffy until Fluffy won the game by jumping up onto the back of the couch, and from there to the top of a low bookshelf. Freckles stared up at his new friend, panting. Then he went into a play bow, front paws outstretched and hind end in the air.

  C’mon down from there and chase me some more!

  But Fluffy suddenly seemed to remember that he was hungry. He began to bleat again and didn’t stop until Charles fixed him a bottle and brought it over to the couch. Fluffy leapt from the bookshelf down onto the couch, and then onto Charles’s lap. He began to drink hungrily, while Freckles lay down to watch.

  Soon after the bottle was empty, Fluffy fell fast asleep on Charles’s lap. Freckles snoozed, too, at Charles’s feet. “Whew,” whispered Charles to himself, leaning back on the couch. It was a lot of work taking care of these animals! He was ready for a rest himself.

  Charles didn’t mean to fall asleep. But the next thing he knew, Freckles was chasing Fluffy around the cabin again.

  “What is going on in here?” said Dad, who must have just come in. He stood by the front door, pulling off his jacket and boots. “Freckles, stop that! You’re scaring the lamb.”

  Charles laughed. “Fluffy isn’t scared of anything,” he said. “They’re playing. Just watch for another minute and you’ll see.” Sure enough, a moment later the two reversed directions and Fluffy began chasing Freckles. The puppy scrambled here and there, sliding on the wooden floor, while the lamb bounced after him.

  Dad started to laugh. “Just like a pair of puppies,” he said. “I guess lambs are playful, too.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Steve, who had come in behind Dad, stomping snow off his boots. “I love to watch them over at Chloe’s when they’re first let out to pasture. The lambs are all over the place, climbing on everything—including their mothers! They chase each other just like that.”

  “I thought we were supposed to keep them apart,” said Charles. He’d been feeling terrible about maybe leaving the door open so Freckles could slip inside.

  “Well, we did our best, and then I guess they took over. If they want to be friends, who are we to stop them?” Steve said. Nothing ever seemed to upset him. “Now, are you ready to help me get supper?”

  Charles jumped up. “Sure,” he said. His only regular chores at home were setting the table and clearing the table. He and Lizzie traded days on that. He didn’t usually help to make dinner, but why not? If Steve thought he could, Charles was ready to give it a try. At home, Charles was just a kid. Here at Steve’s, he felt like one of the guys.

  “Wash your hands,” said Steve. “Then maybe the first thing you should do is get another bottle of formula mixed up. Seems like this lamb gets hungry every couple hours or so. We might as well be ready.”

  Steve was right; no sooner had Charles finished getting the bottle ready than Fluffy started to bleat. “I’ll feed him this time,” said Dad. He sat down on the couch and Fluffy leapt right onto his lap. “Whoa!” Dad looked surprised. Then he gave Fluffy a hug. “This guy learned fast, didn’t he?” Charles gave Dad the bottle, and Fluffy began to drink.

  “That’s right, fella,” said Dad. “Drink up.” Charles watched, smiling. Dad had the same happy, dreamy look on his face that he got when he was holding a human baby. Dad loved babies.

  Charles went back into the kitchen, and Steve put him to work peeling potatoes. “The peeler’s sharp,” he said. “So watch your fingers.”

  At home, Mom didn’t usually let Charles use sharp knives or peelers on his own. Charles picked up the peeler and swiped it along the potato the way Steve had shown him, being careful to keep his fingertips out of the way. It wasn’t hard at all.

  “Now we slice them, real nice and thin,” said Steve. He demonstrated for Charles, then handed him a long knife. Charles glanced at Dad, but Dad was still staring down at Fluffy with that goofy look on his face. He shrugged and began to slice. Before long, he’d sliced up eight potatoes.

  “Nicely done,” said Steve, who was busy mixing up meat loaf. “Now we lay them in this baking dish, one partly on top of the next, so they look kind of like fish scales.”

  Charles was getting the hang of this cooking thing. It was easy—and a lot of fun. He laid out the potatoes, then added salt, pepper, butter, and milk the way Steve told him to. Then they popped the pan into the oven that Steve had preheated. “That’s it,” said Steve, giving Charles a high five. “You just made scalloped potatoes the way my grandma taught me to when I was your age.”

  Charles grinned. He looked over at Dad and saw that his father was snoring, with his head drooping over the sleeping lamb nestled on his lap. Freckles lay at Dad’s feet, also snoozing. Charles put his hand over his mouth to quiet his laughter, then tugged on Steve’s sleeve and pointed.

  The best part about helping to make dinner was sitting down to eat it. It was just about the most delicious dinner Charles had ever had, and Dad couldn’t stop talking about how great the scalloped potatoes were. Charles didn’t even mind helping to clean up afterward. Everything seemed like fun here at Steve’s cabin. He was secretly glad that the snowstorm had come. This was so much cozier than another night at the inn.

  After they’d cleaned up, Steve suggested they take Freckles out for a walk before bedtime. “Wouldn’t want the pup to wander off in this storm,” he said as he snapped on a leash.

  Fluffy woke up and wanted to come along, but Dad held on to the lamb as Steve and Charles stepped outside. “Wow!” said Charles when he saw how deep the snow already was. It came up over his boots as soon as he stepped out of the mudroom.

  “I know,” said Steve. “And it’s still coming down hard. I think we might be caring for Fluffy for longer than we thought. I doubt anybody’s going anywhere tomorrow.”

  Freckles plunged into the snow. Even with the flashlight beam on him, he almost disappeared into the whiteness, except for his brown freckles and his one brown ear. He bounded and leapt, pushing his way through the drifts, as Steve and Charles tried to follow the old snowshoe trail.

  “Good enough,” said Steve after Freckles had done his business. “Let’s head back.”

  The cabin felt warmer and cozier than ever when they came back in, brushing snow off their jackets. The yellow glow of the kerosene lamps made everything look pretty. “Fluffy missed you,” Dad said. The lamb leapt off his lap when he spotted Freckles, and the two began to play again. This time, they both seemed tired out after a few laps around the room. Charles gave Fluffy one more bottle before bedtime and helped Dad change his diaper. Then he got the bed of towels near the woodstove all ready for Fluffy and Freckles. Charles was sleeping on the floor right next to them, on an old camping mat of Steve’s. Dad was going to sleep on the couch.

  Charles sat down on the floor by the woodstove to give Fluffy one more hug before he tucked the lamb in. The lamb was so soft and warm, and he smelled so good. He nuzzled Charles’s cheek and bleated softly into his ea
r. “I love you too, Fluffy,” Charles said, holding him close. Then he felt something nudging his elbow. It was Freckles, pushing his nose against Charles’s arm.

  What about me? Don’t I get a hug?

  Charles smiled. He had been as patient as he could be, and now Freckles was finally ready for a hug. He settled Fluffy onto his bed of towels, then pulled Freckles gently onto his lap. The white pup was warm and relaxed, and he let Charles hold him close without squirming or pulling away. Charles felt tears welling up in his eyes as he kissed the top of the puppy’s sweet-smelling head. Lambs were wonderful, but there was nothing like hugging a puppy.

  “We can all take turns feeding Fluffy when he wakes up hungry in the night,” said Steve as he turned off the lamps and climbed up the ladder to his sleeping loft. “I’ll make up a few bottles so they’re ready.”

  Charles slid down into the warm sleeping bag a little later on, feeling happy to lie down and stretch out. It had been a long, exciting day. He couldn’t wait to see how much more snow fell overnight. Maybe Steve had a sled he could borrow to use on that hill beyond the last row of maples. Drowsily, Charles glanced over at Freckles and Fluffy, who lay curled up together nearby. They looked so cozy in the flickering light from the woodstove’s glass window. Charles yawned and slipped off into a deep sleep.

  It seemed like only minutes before Fluffy began to bleat again. Charles rolled over in his sleeping bag, groaning. How could one tiny lamb eat so much?

  “I’ve got it,” Steve said. Charles heard him climbing down the ladder from his sleeping loft. Soon, Fluffy’s bleating stopped as he gulped down the bottle Steve fed him. Charles watched them for a while by the light of the woodstove, then drifted off to sleep again.

  When he woke, there was a milky-white light coming from the windows. Charles rubbed his eyes. He had slept through the whole night! Dad was still snoring on the couch, and Steve was up in his loft. Why hadn’t any of them heard Fluffy bleating for food again? Charles sat up straight and looked over at the little bed near the stove.