It was the fullest, richest part of the summer in New England.  The
afternoon shadows were lengthening, the blackberries were deep purple
and plump on the cane, and the soft breezes sifted the yellow powder from
the fuzzy yellow goldenrod blossoms.  The bees were starting to show some
wear and tear, and the occasional "plonk!" of a shiny new acorn could be
heard beneath the oaks.  It was the end of August, and the hoomins packed
up their suitcases, and left the house for their annual vacation.  The
dog, the Noble Allis Chompers was dropped off to spend the time with
local family.  Arrangements were made with the nice girl down the street
to check in on Ping and Puma, and France, the Fricken' Pygmy Hedgehog
every day.  The hoomins would be gone for ten days.  But while they were
gone, someone was coming over for an extended stay in the country...the
Otters.
 
When we left off,the otters were volunteering to make a delicious feast
for their little cousins...
 
"Yes," said the First Otter.  "Let us gather sticks and find the
matches!"
 
"*Matches?*" said Ping?  "Umm...Puma and I don't play with matches.
They, like, start forest fires."
 
At that both otters only grinned..."Well, said the First, we don't want
to start any *forest* fires..."
 
"No!" said the Second.  "That would never do!  Where would all the birds
and our Brothers and Sisters in Fur go, then, if they lost their homes?"
 
"Noo," said the First a bit distractedly, that would never do.  Imagine
losing your home...the only home you ever knew." He stared off into the
distance through the front window, saying nothing more.  The Second
otter merely stood in place, wringing his paws, and seeming to look down
straight through the floor.  Something was clearly the matter.  The long
silence lengthened.  Even France respected that something difficult was
happening, and she remained respectfully silent.  These were not the
cheery otters their hosts were accustomed to!
 
Finally, Ping ventured "Um...what's wrong, Dudes?"
 
But neither otter replied.  The First merely sighed, the Second abruptly
sat down on the floor, and rested his head in his paws.
 
"Dudes?" tried Ping again, a bit weakly.  But there was no reply.
 
Finally France belted out "Whass wrong wit youuu?" The First sat down on
the floor next to his brother and said only "Otter Creek."  At that the
Second otter nodded sagely, but still seemed beyond words.
 
*Never* at a loss for words France now asked "Whass Otter Creeeek?"
 
The First said.  "The place where otters lived, once.  Now it's the Mall
at Otter Creek."
 
"And Otter Estates," interjected the Second.  Mustn't forget the
*Luxury Housing Development*" he said, with considerable heat in his
voice."Affordable Country Condominium Living from the low Two-Hundered
and Seventies!"
 
"Delightful!" snarled the First otter.  "Oh, yes, *delightful!*" snarled
the Second otter.
 
Ping and Puma made uneasy eye contact once more.  They had never seen the
otters...well, *angry.* Ever.  But they were certainly angry now.
 
"Conn-do....minimum?  What's that?" asked Ping, sure he wasn't going to
like the answer.
 
"It's a house that hoomins build in the place that animals lived before"
explained the First otter.
 
"But then where do the animals live?" asked Ping.
 
"They don't," said the First, flatly.
 
"Don't what? I don't get it!" said Ping.
 
"They don't live.  They don't play.  They don't eat.  They don't have
kits.  They *aren't*, anymore," said the First.  The Second just sat
next to his brother, nodding sagely, a look of extreme sadness on his
face.  His very whiskers drooped.  The silence lengthened.
 
Puma, a little unsure if she should bring it up or not said "But there
is still an Otter Creek...you can see it from the highway."
 
"Yes, little cousin.  You can still see a fragment of it from the
highway," said the First otter, in a kind voice.  "But let me tell
you about Otter Creek, what it *used* to be..." He closed his eyes,
which were just starting to brim over with tears, and began...
 
End Part Four
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 5367]