It is night in the Sargent-Colburn household.  The house is very quiet,
the only sounds are the soft humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen,
and the gentle snoring of the dog, the Noble Allis Chompers in her
velvety green armchair in the living room.  The lights on the Christmas
Tree (it's not one of those newfangled Holiday Trees) glow gently in the
living room, casting the strange star burst shapes of pine needle shadows
on the ceiling.
 
Suddenly, we can hear little scratching noises coming from the direction
of the ferret room door, and muted conversation.  It is Ping is He and
Puma, but mostly Ping, who is chattier.  He stands up against the
plexiglass barrier of the ferret room door, looks back over his shoulder
at Puma and says "OK Dude, just use me for a ladder, and climb on out."
 
Puma furls her brow in concentration, and slowly begins to search for paw
holds on Pings strong young back.  "DUDE!," he warns "be careful with
those claws!"
 
Puma takes a deep breath, sets one of her back feet a little higher up
on Ping's spine and mutters darkly "Don't call me Dude." Then she sets
her claws like a logger using tree spikes and ascends him in one smooth
rippling pulse.  By the time Ping can draw in enough air to screech,
she is standing on the kitchen floor, on the other side of the barrier,
smiling sweetly.
 
Ping gives her a dark look, but decides not to pursue the matter.  With
a few tries, he gets his front paws up over the edge of the barrier, and
vaults over and onto the kitchen floor, landing next to Puma.  "Follow
me," he says, and she does.  They are two dark shadows trotting along
the kitchen floor, and then into the bathroom.
 
It is not completely dark in the bathroom, there is a night light up on
the wall that gives them enough light to see.  They trot over the soft
throw rugs, and stop in front of the vanity.  Ping lies on his back in
front of it, and with all four feet, paws open one of the doors in front.
He steps in, and disappears among the boxes of kleenex and Quips and
sharp-smelling cleansers of various types.  A few folded washcloths fall
out onto the floor.  Suddenly, the bottom drawer gives a little creak.
It stops as though stuck for a second, but then it opens a few inches, a
few inches more.  Puma can hear Ping grunt with effort, as he pushes it
open from behind.
 
Finally, it is more than half open, and Ping's head can be seen peeking
out from inside of it.  He scrambles a bit, and finally he hops out of
the drawer, and onto the floor.  He smiles so that the points of both of
his top fangs can be seen.  (Puma thinks that this is very cute, but she
would never tell him so.  He already thinks he's all that.)
 
Ping says "Yeah, Dude!  I've been stashing some things here for your
birthday, seeing as how you're one, now.  Not a kit anymore, Dude!"
Puma smiles tremulously, and tries not to tell him AGAIN, not to
call her Dude.
 
Ping crawls back halfway into the drawer, and starts tossing things out
onto the bathroom floor.
 
The first few things looked like...AGGGH!!!  Dried bones!!  Puma backed
up so quickly that she smacked into the toilet, and fell onto her side.
BONES!
 
"Yeah, Dude!  Turkey bones!  I've been saving them for you since
Thanksgiving.  This one still has some dried potato on it." Ping dove
back into the drawer, and started rummaging around again.  He came up
with this...thing in his mouth.  Puma flattened her ears down to her
skull in dread, and fell over again when he spat it out onto the floor
with a loud "Pitooey!" It rolled to her, and stopped.  Puma was never
so grateful for anything in her life as seeing that ...thing stop before
it touched her.
 
"Apple core!" shouted Ping.  "I love 'em when they get transparent
like this, then they're really sweet and.chewy!  "said Ping with great
enthusiasm.  "Wait, wait...I got another one here..." Puma searched deep
inside of herself for the Mantra Master Ho had given her for Centering,
but she could not find it.  All she could think of was the Master's
wise, gentle face spitting out an APPLE CORE!  Puma shuddered.
 
"OK," said Ping.  "Now that was just the warm up.  You know, I really,
really love you Puma." Ping dropped his head, and said in a small voice
"Yeah, I know you think I'm a bonehead, and half the time I hear you
talking to yourself in....um....that chanting thing because I drive you
nuts, I know." Puma felt very small, at that moment.  It was true.  She
did think Ping was a bonehead, even when she was a very little kit, but
even then, he let her ride on his back, and he always tried to answer the
million questions that every young kit has about all the smells and
sounds.  And he always wrapped his arms around her in the hammie, and
kept her safe and warm.
 
Puma thought about her first year, and she thought....she was lucky to
spend it with Ping.  She felt her tail bottle brush, just from trying not
to cry.  She loved Ping.  She still remembered coming home from the pet
store in the cardboard box, so very frightened....and there was Ping,
with a friendly "Hi, little Dude!"
 
She could hear all sorts of rummaging around in the vanity, and Ping
emerged hind end and tail first from the drawer pulling something
ENORMOUS in his teeth.  It was kind of ...gray and flappy, like a sheet
of...plastic?  Salty smelling plastic with a hint of...cloves?  He kept
pulling and pulling.  Finally he let go, and turned to her with a very
hopeful, sweet smile.  "It's the wrapper from that fancy spiral sliced
ham they had last week.  I got you the *whole* wrapper!"
 
Puma decided this was *definitely* not the time to remind him, for the
thousandth time, that she was imprinted on kibble, and only kibble.  She
thought about all those rides on his back when she was little, kicking
her heels into his sides and telling him to 'Run!  Run faster, Ping!' and
the two of them running like the wind.  She swallowed hard....and said
"Thank you, Ping.  It's the best birthday present ever!"
 
(Just for the record, we just found ALL of these things, including the
ham wrapper, stashed in the vanity drawer by Ping.  I can't think of
a better explanation for their being there.  It is her birthday.  It
*could* have gone down like that.  We'll never know.)
 
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 5100]