My works

“What’s that, Morty?”

The brown furry rodent looked up from the large leather object he had dragged into his den. His whiskers twitched from side to side as he eyed his roommate, Bruce. “Catcher’s mitt,” he said with a curt impatience then he gripped a leather strap in his mouth and continued to pull, until he reached the brick hearth.

“That’s really interesting, but what do you need with a catcher’s mitt?” Bruce asked.

“Don’t know yet. Just found it.”

Morty, not long on words, sat in his leather recliner and peered down at the recently acquired sports equipment. His eyes shone with imaginative curiosity.

Bruce called to Morty several times. He didn’t even flinch, but sat motionless except for a slight vibration in his whiskers. Bruce removed the spectacles form the end of his nose and looked down from his perch in the corner of the apartment at his friend. “Hello, Earth to Morty.”

The ferret shook himself then looked up at the opossum. “What Bruce? Not listening.”

“Yes, I noticed. Where did you find that?” He pointed with the spectacles clenched in his clawed fist.

“Peabody’s grocery.”

“They sell mitts now?” Bruce unfurled his tail and shimmied down his perch.

“Nope.”

Bruce closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes, he studied his friend. Morty sat in total concentration staring at the leather glove in front of him. Bruce tapped Morty on the shoulder until he turned his attention to him. “Can you explain please?”

“Behind Peabody’s. Behind the garbage.”

Bruce’s little furry brow scrunched and he replaced his spectacles on his nose. He bent forward and examined the find. “Looks brand new. Someone must have lost it. I doubt anyone would throw a perfectly good glove away.”

“Don’t know.”

“Hmm.” Bruce scratched behind his ear. The brief contact made for a bigger itch. And not until he had contorted his body around and gnawed at the spot in the silvery fur with his teeth did the relief come. “Ah. Yes, ahem. And you felt you should bring it home?”

“Yep.” Morty arched his back and stretched from here to there. “Kids could use it.”

By kids, Bruce knew he was referring to the orphans living in Toadstool Manor at the top of Maplewood hill.

“That’s a wonderful idea. Why don’t we take it up to them after breakfast?”

“`Kay.” Morty darted over to the table and started eating. He didn’t wait for Bruce to get the tea or be seated.

“Anxious to get up there, huh?” Bruce teased.

Morty turned, bobbing his head in rapid succession. Crumbs from the chocolate chip muffins clung to his whiskers and hairy face. He licked his paws then held them aloft. “Finished.”

Bruce laughed. He could never be mad at his friend of fifteen years. Morty’s heart was too big ever to begrudge him. “Let me get my cane, my leg has been acting up.”

#

The pair journeyed up to the top of the hill. As always, Bruce was struck with the beauty of the stately Toadstool Manor, so named for the large green toadstools that graced the massive pond on the outer edge of the property.

The tall white pillars at the front of the house reminded him of strong sentries guarding a palace for royalty. But this was no palace. This was a home for orphaned or abandoned children.

He forever marveled at the sound that resonated from the great archways and mullioned windows. Laughter and gaiety rang on the air. Despite what brought the children to the doorstep, Missy Molly Montgomery welcomed each and every child into her home and her over flowing compassionate arms. She made their stay one of growth and prosperity, helping them to discover their own gifts, while hers continually grew with her gentle and kind ways. She, not born by blood, but love. Their mother of the heart – he’d heard her say more than once.

Morty huffed a bit after carrying the glove so far, breaking Bruce from his reverie. Morty, however, did not complain once of the chore.

“Where are the kids now?” Bruce asked and looked up into the sky to gage the time of day.

“Almost playtime.”

Bruce nodded. The children would be out in the play yard directly. He and Monty headed for the back of the property. Not a single toy littered the green grass yard. One virtue – of – many – that Miss Molly taught her children was to keep their toys stowed in proper fashion when not in use.

“Let’s put it just beyond the back stairs to surprise the kids when they come out. They will all surely see it there.”

“`Kay.” Morty scurried over and put it where Bruce indicated. Just as he was ducking back into their hiding space behind a fat-with-bloom azalea bush, the back door burst open and the children spilled out.

“Oh man, look what I found,” the one Bruce knew as Joey proclaimed.

“What is it?” little Bethany asked.

“Move it squirt and let me see.” Billy pushed his sister aside and gaped at the glove Joey held out. “Way cool.”

“Let me see.” Bethany popped up and down on her sneakered feet, her red ponytails flapping on her shoulders.

“What do you have there boys?” Miss Molly followed the parade of nine children out into the yard.

“A catcher’s mitt,” Joey exclaimed and handed the leather glove to his much-loved mentor and guardian. The other children gathered around and oohed and aahed the find.

“Let me see,” Bethany begged and tugged on her brother’s faded blue t-shirt.

Miss Molly offered the glove to the girl who gave it a once over then handed it back and scrunched her nose. “That’s really interesting, but what’s it for?”

“It’s for baseball you knucklehead.” Her brother Billy put her in a head locked and gave her a sound noogie.

Her giggles echoed in the play yard until Billy had mercy and released her. She stuck out her tongue through the hole where her front teeth used to be, and then she headed off to the seesaw with her little friend Jolene.

“Where do you think it came from?” Joey asked Missy Molly as several of the kids moved on to more interesting things, like swings, hopscotch or the jump ropes that they brought out with them.

“I don’t know.” The old woman scratched her freckled chin and scanned the back yard. Her eyes landed on the azalea bush and a smile crossed her lips. “Must be the same anonymous person that left most of your toys.” She winked and turned her back on the bush. “I think I may be able to scrounge up a baseball and a bat somewhere.”

“Way cool,” the boys shouted in unison.

Morty and Bruce watched the children play for an hour when Bruce’s stomach rumbled.

“Hungry?” Morty asked.

Bruce smiled at his friend. “Yes. It seems I skipped breakfast this morning.” He playfully swatted his ferret friend with his tail. “Let’s go see what we can scrounge up.”