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..."Perhaps, Brother,you will pass that bag through the screen, and I will then assist you inside?" "Delightful!,"cried the First otter. Ping looked at Puma, and Puma looked at Ping. Ping raised his shoulders silently in a shrug, as if to say "I don't get it either." Puma sighed, quietly. And then, the white plastic bag was thrust through the screen, dangling from the hand of the First otter....It swung, gently. Ping cleared his throat and asked politely "Um, Dudes, what's in the bag?" Both otters began to chuckle,(the First with some effort, as he was now climbing into the house through the loosened window screen. The bag was unceremoniously dumped on the floor to make this possible.) The Second put both paws on his hips and said with genuine pleasure "Provisions, little cousins, provisions for our country visit while your hoomins are gone!" Ping called out "Dude! Do you have any wasabi peas? Roast chicken bones? Maybe a *ham* wrapper in there?" The otters laughed while Puma envisioned the things that she knew otters ate. It was not a pretty picture. She cleared her throat carefully and said "Will you please let us out, and THEN tell us what you brought?" "Certainly, certainly!,"called out the First otter, as he waddled over to the cage. "We'll have you out momentarily." And he did. Ahhhh... out of the cage. Ping is He and Puma zipped out of the little door that the otter had lifted. They ran, zigged, zagged, leapt, war danced, and rolled on the floor in pure joy. Finally still, but panting a bit from his exertions Ping said "As soon as I find some pliers, that cage and I are going to have a little talk, Dude!" While Ping and the otters chatted about which bars should be bent and how far, Puma went into stealth mode and snuck over to the white plastic bag on the floor by the front windows. She nosed the plastic aside, and slipped into the bag. She sniffed...sniffed...sniffed...but recognized none of the scents, aside from that of the bag itself. "At least I don't smell *fish*," she thought. Puma did not like fish. Or wasabi peas. Or roast chicken bones. Or (shudder)dripping ham wrappers. She sniffed again, and this time she thought she detected that stuff Ping was so nuts about, chocolate. Puma didn't like that, either. Ping liked to tease her that she hated almost as many things as *France* did. Hmm. While Ping and the otters continued to scheme in the background and a search was begun for the pliers, Puma started turning over the little packages inside the bag and reading the words printed on them. Hmmmm. 'Graham Crackers.' "Sounds yucky," she thought. Here was another one...'Hershey Bars.' Bars? The little package that smelled like chocolate didn't seem nearly heavy enough to contain metal bars. Puma read the lettering on a soft, mushy bag that smelled sweet. 'Marshmallows. 'That was the best smelling thing yet. Then, there were several little metal tins...'Sardines' and 'Smoked Oysters Packed in Oil.' None of *those* sounded good, at all. No, not at all. End Part Two Alexandra in MA [Posted in FML issue 5363]