It was another beautiful day here in the Afterworld.  (They all are,
unless we get tired of that and ask the Big Boss for some exciting
weather!)I waited for a fellow named Butterscotch to make his way across
the Bridge.  He wasn't due for a while, so I waited beneath the lilac
tree (white today) and I was almost asleep in the dappled shade and the
perfume of the blossoms, when I heard the patter of little feet on the
worn wooden planks.
 
It wasn't the normal sound of paws walking, there was a hitch to it.
Finally I saw Butterscotch, and I realized why.  He was carrying a small
stuffy in his mouth, and the weight of it swinging made his center of
balance change constantly.  I walked up to him and he dropped his stuffy
in the grass, and spit out a little piece of lint.  We touched noses,
and shared scents.
 
I introduced myself, and asked him if he would like to keep that stuffy,
or donate it to Stuffy Mountain.  He was curious about that, so I
suggested that we strap on our wings (his still had that wonderful new
smell) and fly there, it was some distance away.  I helped him buckle in,
and I offered to carry his stuffy for him since it was his first time
flying.  He agreed that was probably for the best, after all, this was a
*very* precious little stuffy!
 
I bit into the stuffy and lifted off a few feet into the air.  I looked
back over my shoulder and saw that Butterscotch was right behind me.
So far, so good.  We rose to a good cruising altitude, and the whole
Afterworld laid out beneath us.  We flew over fields of rippling grass
dotted with wildflowers, then thick forests divided by small silver
streams of cold, fresh water.  The ground gradually rose in swells, and
soon there were lines of low hills that gave way to mountains.  We flew
over the highest peaks, and saw broad valleys between them.  Our
destination lay in one of those valleys, and I angled our course directly
toward it.
 
First it was almost impossible to tell what we were looking at.  It was
a conical pile, a great mound of riotous color.  As we flew in for a
landing at its base, it was possible to see that it was made up of
thousands and thousands of assorted stuffies.  Fleece ones, terrycloth
ones, in little animal shapes, in standard toy shapes, with or without
bells...the variety was endless.  Today there were only about a dozen
ferrets sorting through the pile, looking for just the right one.
 
Butterscotch and I admired the pile, and I told him it was traditional
to donate a stuffy from the World of the Living for all the Brothers and
Sisters in Fur who had no stuffies in their lives there, whose Hoomins
did not think to provide them.  But there was no pressure to do so, he
was welcome to hold onto his.  He was also welcome to trade his for
another.  I, personally, had three stuffies from this Mountain.
 
Butterscotch stood and thought for a while.  He said it was difficult to
imagine Hoomins were not thoughtful of the needs of their ferrets.  He
spoke of his life with His Mommy and Daddy's Bussiness of Lady Dana,
Komots, Momoto, Honeysuckle, and Shania, with whom he had plans to see
that evening at the Ferretone Mountain for a reunion.
 
Then he was quiet for a long few minutes.  Finally, without a word, he
picked up his stuffy, and walked it to the pile.
 
Sandee
[Posted in FML issue 5113]