(This story is dedicated to Judy Cooke and Laura Holland, who have both
been put through the wringer lately
Come fly with us, ladies!  And forget all about it for a while.)
 
It was a gentle, mid-summer's night in central Massachusetts.  The air
was heavy with the scents of honeysuckle, pine, and the nearby lake.
Nothing moved, except the leaves in the breeze, and the slugs in the
Sargent-Colburn strawberry patch, leaving nasty little holes in the
fruit.  Crickets chirped, and frogs deep in the silvery, wet grass sang
songs of love and territory.
 
But in the lower driveway...something moved.  Something...trotted along,
close to the ground, nose to the gravel.  Moments later, another, smaller
version of the first creature detached herself from the shadows, and
trotted after the first.  Ping is He and Puma had succesfully escaped
from the house on their own for the first time!  Ah, the pleasure of
it!  To come and go as one pleases!  The limitless possibilities....
trash bags to bite a hole into and then explore, piles of building
materials carelessly left on the ground by homeowners to creep through,
flower-studded gardens that smelled of nothing but sweetness and sunshine
to dig in, dog houses with spilled kibble, storage sheds and garages
containing all manner of delights...And then, of course, there were the
tractors.
 
In the moonlight, the 1966 John Deere tractor was all sturdy little green
girders and strength, its tireless bucket resting on the ground before
it.  The 1947 was completely different, of course.  Upright, no bucket.
It was the 1966 so called '1020' model that the little shadows flitted
to.  First the large, then the small shadow ascended a rear tire, and
climbed up into the 1020's seat.
 
Ping is He and Puma admired the view from their vantage point, high atop
the green beast.  The tangled snarl of hydraulic lines powering the
bucket, the complicated forest of rods and levers flanking the steering
wheel....and one feature in particular.  "I told you so, Dude!" said
Ping, pointing with one paw to the ignition.  The simple, keyed ignition.
Key in, turn it on!  "Don't call me Dude", said Puma.  "OK Dude", said
Ping.  Puma merely closed her eyes, and sighed.  She said her Mantra that
Master Ho had given her.  It often helped with Ping.  In a few moments
she found her center, and that was good, because by then, the 'Fricken
Pigmy Hedgehog caught up with them.
 
France yelled up at them "Thiefffs!  I 'ate that youuu did not wait for
meee....I 'ate standin' on thisss gravel....I 'ate both of youuu..."
 
Ping turned to Puma and said "Dude, I'll get her", and jumped down to
the ground.
 
Puma said quietly, beneath her breath "Don't call me Dude."
 
An arguement ensued beneath the tractor in which Ping demanded that
France lay her spikes down flat so that he could scruff her in his
mouth, and carry her up to the tractor seat.  The 'Fricken Pigmy Hedgehog
refused energetically, until a frustrated Ping finally yelled "DUDE!  I'm
gonna pick you up by the ear!" Puma repeated her Mantra, quietly, while
the matter was settled.  France finally agreed to lay her spikes flat,
Ping picked her up by her scruff and carried her up to the 1020's seat,
while she swung in his mouth, cursing.
 
France was deposited none too gently on the seat by a winded Ping, and
Puma said to her "Dude-I mean FRANCE (Master Ho must never know)-where
is your ski mask?"
 
France replied wearily "Zee 'oomin, she is washin' eet."
 
Dude!" said Ping.
 
Puma and France merely looked at him, then.  It was the same look.  Both
looks were utterly lost on the boy
 
Ping scrambled around to the gearshift and pointed to the place where the
green paint was scratched.  A letter 'U' had been added, for "UP", just
as it had been added to the 1947 model.  He said "Look, Lily did this
one, too, before she died.  It will go up, like the other one.  We can
fly it.  And this one will be loads easier to start!  I stashed the key
weeks ago."
 
"Youuuu mean youuu stol' eet, youu thieef" said France, unhelpfully.
 
Ping and France began to bicker once again, and Puma drew on Master Ho's
teachings, and sought her center, but grew distracted by the bickering.
"STOP" She snapped, "or I will bite you both!" Ping and France saw the
fang in her outburst, and quieted down immediately.  It wasn't good to
anger Puma, who was now contemplating the following Haiku; "Ah, snail,
climb Mount Fuji, but slowly, slowly!" That one always helped.  When
she didn't see red anymore, Puma said quietly "Ping, get the key."
 
End Part One
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 4944]