As we rejoin the story...
It is a sunny August summer day in central Massachusetts. The
sunflowers in the hoomin's vegetable garden show golden and brown faces
above the neat rows of beans and squash, and in the surrounding back
yard the white tailed deer browse on tender leaves and new berries deep
in the tangle of rhododendron and hemlock. The two neighbourhood owls
have returned, but sleep nervously, their heads tucked beneath their
soft wings. The field mice nibble the ripe seed heads growing in the
long grass. The air is sweet, and smells of pine and the wet sand
ringing the nearby pond.

It was now Saturday afternoon.

The First Otter's words were still ringing in Puma's ears."No! That
will give us two Sea Otters, two rare black Russian minks, a Border
Collie demonstration, an endangered ocelot, and a rare, pygmy
porcupine!" This was the backbone of his plan to stage a Petting Zoo
at the local Sunday Flea Market in the next town over. Hopefully,
they could raise enough money using themselves as exhibits to get the
hoomin's tractor repaired. (Being grounded was roundly viewed as a
drag!)

Amazingly, everyone, even France, was amenable to the plan. It *would*
however, be tricky. The Sea Otter exhibit would be simple to prepare.
They would simply um...borrow the kiddie wading pool belonging to the
little girl next door. They could wedge it into the bucket of the
tractor, empty, and fill it at the Flea Market. And ''viola!" As France
might say, in one of her better moods.OK. One of her *best* moods. One
Sea Otter Exhibit.

Two rare black Russian minks? Very simple. She and Ping would roll and
dig in the cold fireplace ashes until they were good and dark. The
actual darkening process was not something that Puma particularly
looked forward to, but Ping was certainly enthusiastic! This was an
activity that the hoomins, who were away in their camper for the
weekend, actively discouraged him from engaging in. He was eager to
see just how filthy he could get. Puma was less enthusiastic, but she
understood that for many hoomins, the word 'mink' had more impact and
snob-appeal then 'ferret.'

The Border Collie Exhibit? The dog, the Noble Allis Chompers, who was
probably as much Lab as Border Collie if the truth be told had trotted
over to the nearby Harrington Farm to see if she could find a sheep
with a spirit of adventure. Or at least one who could be bribed with
a no-holds-barred visit to the hoomin's vegetable garden, which was a
veritable sheep self-serve buffet, should access be granted.

The endangered Ocelot? The Second Otter, who fancied himself something
of an artist was even now transforming Sterling the Silver Cat into an
endangered Ocelot with the aid of a heavy black Sharpie pen. Sterling
was complaining about the chemical smell, loudly,as the Second Otter
did the fine detail work around the cat's sensitive green eyes, but
Sterling was now densely spotted and exotic looking. There was some
question of how long this would be the case, and what would the hoomins
think about it when they got home. The subject was the cause for much
humor at the hoomin's expense!

France was adamant that she required no alteration to be believable
as a rare, pigmy porcupine, and nobody wanted to argue with her. Her
habitat box (a simple, rectangular plastic box) would be loaded into
the bucket of the tractor, and she would be exhibited in it with a
paw-lettered cardboard sign describing her, and the *strong* suggestion
that she not be touched.

Everything was coming together. The tricky part was...would the tractor
hold together long enough to drive slowly and carefully to the next
town tomorrow morning with the kiddie wading pool, the paw-lettered
cardboard signs describing the Sea Otters, the Minks, the Border Collie
Demonstration Schedule, the Ocelot, and the Pygmy Porcupine,and her
habitat box? Oh! And of course the cardboard honour box for people to
place their suggested "donation" of a dollar into. All that, plus two
Sea Otters, two Ferrets, a Cat, and France. It had already been decided
that the Dog and the Sheep (Who was really an Independent Contractor in
this situation) could trot the mile or so through the woods as the crow
flies to the Flea Market's grounds.

It was an audacious plan. And it was, as the Noble Allis Chompers said,
"Completely cracked. But it just might work."

Ping and Puma went to dig and roll in the fireplace ashes.

More Tomorrow.
Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 5705]