It was a terribly hot day to be wearing a fur suit in Northern Central
Massachusetts, even this early in the morning. Even the thin, wiry
summer fur suits were almost too much for Todd and Caff-Pow. It was
overcast with a light breeze that tossed the jeweled, two-toned
dragonflies about. The bees held tight to the faces of the sun flowers
as they swayed on their long prickly green stems. The wrong, silvery
side of the birch leaves were showing with every blow, promising
thunderstorms in the future. But for the moment, it was just hot.
Danged hot.

So Caff-Pow applied his strong young back to popping open the cage door
(Todd tends toward brain, Caff-Pow toward brawn) and two gray ferrets
scampered across the hardwood floor of the Sargent-Colburn household.
They took turns pushing at the back screen door until the worn old
spring finally gave up with a creak and then they were on the back
deck, and then they were in the deep clover. The hoomin hob hadn't
mowed it in some time so the two were literally sailing across an
ocean of emerald-green clover, tails held high to spare them the damp
from the lingering dew that hadn't burned off yet in the morning sun.
Caff-Pow went first and Todd followed in his wake up, up the hill in
the back yard. Finally the two ducked beneath the worn plank fencing
that surrounded the vegetable garden at the top of the hill and were
*immediately* dismayed!

For you see, they had walked straight into the strawberry patch, a
strip of plants three feet wide, a foot high, and almost thirty feet
long. And just *dripping* with dew from the night before! "AAARGH!"
snarled the now drenched Caff-Pow. Todd spit out bits of serrated leaf
that were clinging to his face in the most unpleasant fashion and said
"Why does anybody like strawberries? Why?" With that the two crashed
through the berry patch in great leaps that left them decidedly moist.
Neither weasel was pleased by the experience, and they took a minute
standing between the berry and squash patches to groom one another and
to pick the occasional errant strawberry runner from between their
toes.

As unpleasant as it is to crash through a wet strawberry patch, the
squash patch is a delight in every way. It is a dry, shaded, cool space
seemingly lit from within by the enormous five-pointed orange blossoms
carried on the curling vines. Shafts of muted sunlight slant down
between the enormous leaves giving the whole space a sacred feeling,
like a cathedral. It is a calm, quiet, contemplative place, blessedly
cool and fragrant with moist earth. And that is where Todd and Caff-Pow
went, ducking down to push through the first few barrier leaves and
then they found themselves in the realm of the zucchini, the summer
crook-necked, the waltham butternut. Todd pointed with one paw to a
particularly large zucchini that the hoomins had not been able to see
beneath the leaves. It lay cool and green and enormous with faint dark
stripes like an alligator along its back, hidden in a mossy river bank,
invisible. The two boys loped over to it and sat down, their backs
leaning against the enormous vegetable. It was cool, shaded, and
special in that spot. It was some time before either weasel spoke. Some
times and places and do not require chatter, and Todd and Caff-Pow were
happily in one of those times, in one of those spaces. The zucchini was
deliciously cool against their backs.

Finally Todd said "This is purely wonderful." Then he closed his eyes
and rested the back of his head against the squash like an enormous
pillow. He smiled, gently. Caff-Pow considered that and said "Yes,
summer is beautiful but it is so hard and sad to watch it fade away
into fall every year," and he scrubbed at one ear with a paw where a
bit of strawberry leaf still lingered, tickling.

Todd opened his eyes wide, regarded his companion and said "I didn't
know you felt that way, 'Pow. You're always so positive."

Caff-Pow was quiet for a time and then he said "I just feel a little
sad when the birds leave and all the flowers fade. I always wonder did
I miss something? Did I miss some part of summer that I should have
enjoyed? Was I too busy, was I in the cage when I should have been
outside enjoying myself? I wonder, and then it's too late."

Todd rested one paw on Caff-Pow's knee and said "We live well, 'Pow.
We are ferrets. We see, we smell, we explore, we rumble, we climb, we
play. We love life to the fullest. We live life in a way that hoomins
can't even imagine. Regret is for hoomins, not ferrets." Then Todd
closed his eyes once again and snuggled against the zucchini.

Caff-Pow thought about that. He wasn't a particularly philosophical
weasel. He lived very much in the moment--knocking over wastebaskets,
climbing draperies, trying to find his way into the dryer and the
dishwasher with the fragrant rubber gasket. But one does have a certain
amount of time to reflect in the cage. To reflect on the nature of
time, especially. Life goes by so quickly for a weasel. Caff-Pow looked
over at his friend, now definitely starting to doze against the
enormous zucchini and he smiled gently. He and Todd might not live
long, but they did live well. There was nobody that Caff-Pow wanted to
live his life with more than he wanted to live it with Todd. Caff-Pow
smiled and closed his eyes and found a comfortable spot up against the
zucchini and he dreamed...wonderful things.Wonderful things.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 6761]