It was a very dark night, a velvety dark night when the sky overhead in
northern central Massachusetts was frosted with thousands of tiny
blue-white stars in their wonderful swirling winter patterns. The seven
sisters of the Pleiades ran away in terror, Taurus the Bull pursued
pulling Orion the hunter along in his cart. The intricate whorls of the
horse-head nebula were visible along the length of his mighty sword.
Orion's hunting dog Sirius bounded after the lot of them hour after
hour as time passed and the vault of the sky turned on its invisible
axis, silently.

But inside the Sargent--Colburn household all was *not* still. No
indeed. Oh, the refrigerator hummed along quietly, the filters bubbled
quietly in both the 55 gallon tank that housed the goldfish, and the
tank that housed the newest member of the household...Tina, the
Red-Eared Slider . At six years of age she was already a large and a
wise turtle. She had seen the Hoomins celebrate any number of their
unfathomable special occasions. The particulars were of no great
concern to her, as long as the food kept coming. Especially bits of
roast turkey. The big turkey holiday had already passed, she knew that
with certainty. But you never knew. Some years you got two turkey
holidays in a row. She was still hoping that this *might* be one of
those years, and not one of those disappointing years that featured a
salty ham. Ham bits were better than nothing, mind you, but they did
tend to give the water in her tank a certain....metallic taste that she
found disagreeable. She floated gently in her tank, only her back feet
touching bottom. She rose and fell gently with each of her breaths, but
she never, ever got water up her nose. Never had, never would. And she
dreamed dreams of turkey.

In the bedroom the Hoomins lay in a gentle tangle of limbs. Some his,
some hers, and some belonging to the very sweet Loki Dog, a young
Australian Shepherd who had come to live with the Hoomins after the
Noble Allis Chompers left the world the year before. The He Hoomin
snored. "Hwooonk!" The She Hoomin snored. "Hweee..." And Loki breathed
easily and serenely, secure and happy now that she had a new forever
home away from the terribly disordered Hoomins who kept her in a crate
for the first year of her life. In a crate, for more than twenty hours
a day. She had worn her canines permanently flat, trying to chew
through the bars. There was no crate in this house, and never would be.

And in the living room....movement. The sharp metal "SPROING!" sound
that a ferret cage door makes when it is opened from the *inside.*
Yes, the *inside.* Todd and Caff-Pow did hang their hammies in their
enormous multi-level cage, it was a convenience. There was plenty of
fresh kibble and an enormous Lix-It bottle there, too. But Todd and
Caff-Pow like all ferrets had lives of a peculiar richness that few
Hoomins could ever imagine. And for that to be possible of course that
cage door had to be openable from the *inside* at will. It was easier
for 'Pow to bend the bars just right, he was quite a bit bigger then
Todd who was a Marshall's boy. 'Pow kept his little furry nads for a
very long time indeed, and as a result he was a honkin' big ferret
compared to Todd. Oh, in his youth it is true Todd was known as "Todd
the Butter Butt" , however the years had burned away his baby fat. He
still enjoyed licking butter and did so whenever possible, but now he
was a fairly lean weasel. Long and lean. 'Pow was much lighter in
color, and nearly twice Todd's weight. 'Pow was strong, very strong.

And tonight it was 'Pow who exited the cage first and padded across the
living room floor over to the twinkling Christmas tree and the pile of
carefully wrapped presents beneath it. He immediately clambered up and
over the pile to get at the little reservoir of tree water. Nothing
was as sweet as Christmas tree water. In short order Todd was across
the floor and beside him. The static sound of two tiny tongues lapping
added to hum of the refrigerator, the bubble of the tank filters, the
muffled but strangely syncopated "Hwooonk!" and "Hweee!" coming from
behind the Hoomins door. It was night music.

Mmmmm....Tree water. Sublime.

Their thirst slaked, Todd and 'Pow rested atop and amongst the pile of
gifts. Some were wrapped in red paper, some in white, some in furious
patterns of snowflakes and snowmen. Some had shiny bows, some were tied
with colored ribbon. The two ferrets reclined in companionable silence
for quite some time. Sharing as much of their lives together at close
quarters as they did, they had reached that stage at which sometimes
they could have entire conversations with nothing more than a shared
glance, a lifted eyebrow. They understood one another's silences
perfectly.

Todd looked up and into the overhanging branches of the tree and
admired the play of the lights on the shiny metallic ornaments. He
narrowed his eyes until the bits of colored lights were like the
individual beads of a jeweled necklace caught and trapped in the mesh
of his eyelashes. He opened his eyes and once again they resolved in
beautiful hanging balls in a rainbow of colors, all impossibly fragile
and so very, very shiny. When he was a kit he used to try to steal them
and stash them beneath the furniture. Once the she Hoomin found one of
the ornaments in his hammie. She was not amused. Now, older and wiser
he was content to enjoy them in the manner that seemed to please the
Hoomins. Left to his own devices certainly he would organize things a
bit differently. The water reservoir would be much bigger and easier
to get at if he here designing this peculiar tree arrangement that the
Hoomins labored over each year. But, all things considered, the Hoomins
did manage to create something beautiful. He smiled, remembering other
years. Other adventures with piles of discarded wrapping paper on
Christmas morning.

'Pow, too, was considering the pleasure that was to come when he and
Todd would be allowed to play in the piles of discarded wrapping paper.
They would leap, burrow, and tunnel through the loose paper heaps with
their bright colors and fascinating textures. Smooth shiny mylar bows,
almost prickly like metallic cactus blossoms. The smell of the inks on
colored paper...the taste of it, the way it would catch on the moist
patch of his nose and sometimes transfer a little bit of the inked
pattern to it. He and Todd would have red noses, patterns of polka
dots, bits of snowflakes inked onto their noses like temporary tattoos.
They would chase one another furiously through mounds of wrapping paper
and ribbons, twisting and bouncing, reversing and backing up on a dime.
'Pow smiled a slow smile that showed just a hint of ivory fang. Oh, it
was going to be glorious. Glorious.

And in the morning, long after Todd and 'Pow had returned to their
hammies and pulled the little metal door closed behind them... it was.
It was glorious. And yes. It was a two turkey year. It was the very
best day ever.

Merry Christmas--

Todd
Caff-Pow 
Tina 
and Loki 

And Alexandra in Massachusetts 

[Posted in FML 7284]