How all those animals knew when it was 8AM, let alone that fact that it was held only on Saturdays, and they all seemed to knew when that was, is still a wonder to me.
That rear garden of his was hidden, not only from the street and blocked by his big white house, but the entire perimeter of the yard was completely surrounded by a privit hedge that had been there for decades and hadn’t been trimmed for nearly as long.
It was actually by chance that I managed to spy on the scene one Saturday in the Fall when I was but eight years old. I thought that I saw something shiny in the dirt under the heavy branching that covered the ground under those privits, and when I struggled to part all of the thick underbrush and lower branches, there they were!
Old Mr. Thompkins was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of them all with a large old book opened to about halfway, reading slowly and in a gentle voice and the circle of creatures nodding and turning to look at each other from time to time.
Once every page or so there would be a burst of spontaneous applause, but since most of the audience was furried, there was no “clapping” sound like with we humans. (I assume that you readers ARE all humans….aren’t you?)
Anyhow, there was a nearly complete circle of mostly small and medium sized animals if you can picture it, in rapt attention to the reader and his story. There were rabbits, mostly grey ones, and chipmonks, which admittedly had a hard time keeping still, and of course there were a myriad of birds. I noticed that additional birds were covering low branches with their heads turned toward Mr. Thomkins, intently listening along with the audience on the ground.
There was even a box turtle, and some animal that I’m not really sure of, but looked like a groundhog.
I heard Mr. Thompkins say…”And they all lived happily ever after…and I wish that for all of you…TOO!”
There was silent applause again and then most of the animals dispersed in many directions with a Tabby cat coming up to the old man and rubbing against his leg as he stood. The cat followed Mr. Thomkins into the house so I guessed that it was his own pet but all of the other animals were naturally wild but they all sure did love hearing the old man read  to them on Saturday morning storytime.

“OK who’s next?”
The basketball coach heard two grunts coming from somewhere behind the lineup of hopeful Junior Varsity tryouts.
“What? Somebody have a problem…or something….?”
Then the tall front line of future players parted slightly and three foot eleven Billy Klein squeezed through….”Me coach…you didn’t let me tryout yet!”
“Ah…well…this is the tryouts for the JV “BASKETBALL” team…were you looking for the….soccer tryouts maybe?”
“No…I wanna play JV Basketball and get my school letter and sew it on my sweater so everyone knows that I made….”
The coach interrupted “Ah…let’s get serious ah…what’s your name….?”
“Ah….Billy…Smith….Sir…I know I’m a bit …well…more compact than these guys but just….”
“Listen…Billy Smith…I don’t get much time to use the gym….sorry! Anyhow I’m pretty sure I’ve already selected the players for this season…go see coach Martin about soccer.”
Then the coach blew the whistle and yelled…”OK men hit the showers!” The “team” dispersed quickly leaving Billy all alone in the center of the court.
He felt like crying but then just as he turned to leave the Gym in a state of sadness, he spotted a basketball in the far corner. He went over and picked up the ball and looked at it…then looking at the basket which was 30 feet away, Billy set his feet squarely and with both hands launched the ball…mostly in utter despair because he didn’t get a chance to even try out!
“Swish!!!” The ball went straight into the basket…all net!
“That was fun thought Billy and did it again three more times moving another step back for each successive shot.
“SWISH…SWISH…SWISH!”
Then Billy just let the ball bounce on until it rolled back into the corner, and he headed for the Gym exit.
As he got to the door the basketball coach opened it and said, “Congratulations Billy…you’re on the team!”

Grandpa Sanders was looking high and low. Into every drawer and into every closet and even into every mirror although his grandson Mark didn’t know what his Grandpa was searching so much for, especially in mirrors.
“Ah Papa…what are you trying to find?”
“Oh….I’m looking for something that I think I lost and can’t seem to locate.”
“Maybe I can help Papa.”
“Naw…I don’t believe so. It’s all up to me and me alone to find it.”
“Well…what is it Papa? Is it a book or a piece of jewelry…or a key…yeah…you are always losing your keys.”
“No…not those things. I lost something that you should never ever lose. Something you need everyday no matter how old you get to be.”
Mark was searching around under chairs and behind cabinets but admitted he actually was just trying to be helpful and had no clue as to what his grandpa had lost.
Then Grandpa Sanders stopped and squatted down and spoke directly at Mark.
“You’ve still got it and I want you to promise me you’ll never lose it no matter what!”
“Ah…well OK Grandpa…but it would help a whole lot to know what it is that I should never lose.”
“The “KID” in you. Even after you grow up and be a man and even when you get to be as old as me…always keep that kid that you are today inside of you.”
“Well…I think I kinda see what you mean Grandpa.”
Then Mark started to think and then a huge smile lit up Mark’s formerly sad face and he took his Papa’s hand.
“C’mon Grandpa…I think I know where you can find it again.”
Mark led Grandpa Sanders outside into the backyard and onto the playground filled with swings and a sliding board.
His Papa started to smile and run, not too fast, but still running, straight for the sliding board, climbed to the top and as he whooshed down the slide yelled out an unmistakable “WHEEEE!” and just about at the middle of the slide, Mark’s Grandpa found his lost “KID”.

When she was born Silvia noticed that the color of her scales was different from those of all of her brothers and sisters. Theirs were golden scales and made them look  like golden rays of sun swimming in the large pond which Silvia knew as “home”. And most of the other older fish inhabiting the pond were various shades of yellow and gold too. Silvia was more like the color of the rocks along the sides of her home and she wished that she were a beautiful golden shade too.

Also Silvia seemed to always get blamed for any trouble that, especially her brothers, would cause. When there was a commotion, except for feeding time of course, it seemed as though every creature in the pond stared at just her!
Some of the frogs were gray and the slugs were grayish but she was a “GOLD…fish” that somehow wasn’t very gold!

Silvia tried to swim in the bright sun rays that gleamed into the pond hoping to capture the sun’s color but it just made her look  more  silvery. Silvia did notice that the other fish were sometimes confused and weren’t sure which “Gold” fish was which and called them by the wrong names. But everyone knew who Silvia was, but that didn’t make Silvia feel special. And anyhow Silvia didn’t need to feel “special” she just wanted to fit in and be one of the school.

At school one day Silvia found out that she and all her family were CARP. And then she found out that not all carp are gold. In fact, Silvia was technically a Hypopthalmichthys Molitrix or Silver Carp. Well, fish, even carp, can’t write or spell so Silvia didn’t much care what she “technically ” was. Then the rest of her school started to tell her how beautiful that her silvery color was and that they wished that they were silver too. Even the Koi started telling her how they wished that they didn’t have “all these spots all over” and admired her flawless silvery complexion.

It was then that Silvia decided that it was better to appreciate who you are, and be the best “YOU” you can be instead of wishing that you were somebody else. Quite often, that someone else, wished that they were you!

“Get your heel outta my face please!”
“Hey…like I can help it or somethin’!  I got some ugly argyle toe in MY face!”
“Ah watch who yer callen ugly Laddie.”
“Yeah…well…I just want my mate…I haven’t seen Lefty in weeks.”
“Me too…it’s so nice in that sock drawer chattin’ with those other matched pairs…ah…I really  miss it.”
“The WORST are those athletic socks…they never really do get completely clean and they’re so thick and take up so much of our space here!”
Then there was a whimper and sob coming from the top of the pile.
“There there…you’ll be OK little one…we’re all here with you.”
The baby sock with it’s pink ruffle was very sad having just come from the last dryer load.
“I….I….think my match is…..ooohhhh….still in the dryer….CAUGHT!”
“Yeah…happened to golf sock over there…never did find his mate. Oh I shouldn’t have said that should I?”
“Boo Hoo…I’ll never see him again.”
“Now Now….it’ll be OK…you’ll see.
Then all of a sudden the woven basket that held them was lifted and dumped on the big bed. Then soon after, another pile of socks was thrown onto the bed.
“Hey….there’s my….HEY OVER HERE!”
Then human hands started matching up all the socks and folded and tucked the pairs together and threw them into the sock drawer. All of the socks were happy except one old striped one with a hole in the toe.”So long guys maybe I’ll see you all again soon.”
The little baby sock with the pink ruffle was still sad so the striped sock let it snuggle up as they were placed back into the woven basket.
“Maybe next time little one.” Then whispering to himself….”I HATE dryers!”

“EIGHT…Where is EIGHT?. This is getting to be too much of a habit with him!” exclaimed NINE.
“I am ONE that agrees TWO!”
“That’s spelled Too ONE!”
“This is the FIFTH or SIXTH time he’s either been out of order or not here at all!” said FOUR!
“That makes THREE of us that agree TWO!”
“EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT!” That’s the SEVENTH time I’ve called him with NO ANSWER!” Grumbled NINE.
“Hey…is anyone lookin’ for me?” asked EIGHT.
A number of numbers all yelled “NOOOOOO!!!”
So EIGHT left and all the numbers that were trying to line up accomplished exactly ZERO!

“Shhhh….hey hold it down….Tommy is not quite asleep yet.”
“How about now….I got this great idea….”
“NO…shhhh…just a few more seconds…..ah….OK Now…WHAT was such a great idea that it just couldn’t keep?”
“Well…Tommy’s dog Brownie gets lost and Tommy finds him in the woods stuck in a trap and frees him.”
“Naw…we did that one …let’see..last…..September….the….ah….18th….remember?”
“No….not really but then I’m not a memory cell just a dreamaker cell.”
“Yeah well….that’s the greatest cell to be in a brain. Those memory cells never have any fun unless Tommy has fun…but us….we’re different…we make our own fun for Tommy.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right…I wouldn’t like being a memory cell at all.”
“OH NO!!!”
“What?”
“Here comes that awful nightmare cell….hurry….let’s give Tommy a fun dream….QUICK!!!”
“ICE CREAM STORE….where everything is free!!!!”
“Yeah….and you don’t get sick no matter how much ice cream you eat!”
“Yeah….good one …GO….HURRY…and NO BRAIN FREEZES either.”
“So….you GOODY GOODY DREAMAKERS gettin’ ready to give the kid a dream?”
“Ah…well sorry…Horribulis…we already took care of it…you’re just a bit late tonight!”
“DRAT! I’m not gonna be late tomorrow night….and if Tommy tries to take a nap in the afternoon he’ll have the worst daymare he’s EVER had!” Horribulis left in quite a huff!
“What a grumpy cell….I’m glad he’s gone.”
The next morning Tommy woke up with a big smile on his face and his dog Brownie was smiling too!

“Gee…gnats are a gnuisance” Phil said.
Then suddenly Phil heard a very very small high pitched voice say “Gnot all Gnats are Gnot Gnice Buddy!”
Phil looked around and couldn’t see where that itsy bitsy voice came from.
“Hey…Buddy…over here…gnot over there!” A tiny Gnat was yelling at Phil.
“Oh…yes….I think I see you.”
“Well…Gnats get a bad reputation…undeserved in my humble opinion.”
“Well….what do Gnats like you do?” asked Phil.
“Ah…we can pollinate orchids.”
“We don’t have any orchids…what else?”
“Ah…we can eat very tiny pests from plants.”
“They must be REALLY tiny all right.”
“Well…yeah….but we’re here anyway so live with it…besides I think that you are being a very big pest. You humans are always swatting at us poor gnats and that’s gnot gnice.”
Then Phil asked “Why do you spell your name with a “G” anyhow?”
“‘Cause we were gnamed by the same gnut that gnamed the Gnu!”

There once was a turtle named Myrtle
Who thought that she needed a girdle
One look in the mirror she found
That her body shape was quite round
Getting thin would pose quite a hurdle
She tried nearly every way to lose girth
But slimming ideas…there was a dearth
She thought maybe a skirt’ll
Hide some of Myrtle
But that was more trouble than worth
Then one morning at the edge of the pond
She met Tom Turtle of whom she was fond
“Myrtle you look so slim!”
Were the words said by him
Tom instantly for her was James Bond!

It was the middle of the night on a tiny farm in Placidville County and Dooley the Rooster was sleeping soundly when suddenly he awoke with a very sore throat. “I hope I’m not getting a cold” he thought to himself but since roosters can’t chew cough drops he just tried to go back to sleep hoping that he would get better before morning. After all, Dooley had his job to do as the official alarm clock of Small Town Farm. He couldn’t imagine what farmer Jones would think if Dooley didn’t crow in the dawn with his loud but scratchy “Cock A Doodle Doo”.

In fact sometimes Dooley was cock a doodle doodaling before Chester the rooster at the next farm would even be awake. Dooley heard that Chester was a bit lazy and though Dooley had never actually met Chester, the hens told Dooley that they had heard Chester wasn’t nearly as good at alarm clocking as Dooley.

But Dooley’s soreness kept getting worse and worse until when Dooley tried to clear his throat…nothing happened! No sound came out of his upturned beak…not even a whisper. “Oh My!” thought Dooley…because the sun was just inches from breaking above the Eastern horizon and his sore throat was as silent as a pile of dirt!

In two minutes the sun peaked its orange round head up over the Eastern fields and Dooley got up on the roof of the henhouse and threw back his head and opened his beak and tried as hard as he could but absolutely NO sound came out! Though Dooley tried and tried just silent air came out of his beak. Dooley attempted to Cock A Doodle Do for nearly an hour until he finally was so tired that he had to lie down on the roof shingles and he quickly fell asleep.

It was almost nine AM when Dooley woke up to the sound of farmer Jones yelling “DOOLEY…DOOLEY…what’s the matter with you rooster? We’ve all overslept because of you and the pigs didn’t get fed and the cows didn’t get milked and Ma Jones didn’t make me breakfast and…and…I’m really upset with you!”

Dooley tried to cackle down to farmer Jones but nothing came out again…but farmer Jones looked up to see Dooley trying to cackle or cluck or whatever roosters say when they aren’t Cock A Doodle Doodling and he said “Oh Dooley…have…you…LOST your voice?”

So Dooley pointed his right wing at his throat and tried again but just quiet air came out! Then off in the distance Dooley heard old Chester from the next farm over…crowing. “Lot of good that old rooster does crowing at 9 AM…But…well…at least Chester CAN crow.”

Dooley felt really sad now and slowly came down from his crowing place on the roof and farmer Jones picked him up and said…”Dooley…I think you have rooster laryngitis…I don’t know how long that lasts but I do have a great idea!”

Well, the farm day went by and then night time came and then all of the animals and farmer and Mrs. Jones went to bed and so did Dooley. About 4 AM Dooley woke up and tried out his Cock A Doodle Doodling voice but he still had rooster laryngitis or whatever farmer Jones called it, but as the sun peaked up over the Eastern fields Dooley remembered farmer Jones’ great idea…grabbed the battered old brass trumpet the farmer had given him and blew a song called ‘Reveille”.. Toot Toot Tooty Toot…and the lights went on in the farmhouse and the cows mooed and the pigs grunted and the hens cackled and the whole farm and EVEN the neighbor’s farm lit up and began their day right on time thanks to Dooley and his big brass trumpet.

Dooley eventually got his Cock A Doodle Doodling voice back but still blew the trumpet on special mornings…and Small Town Farm never woke up late again…EVER!