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!

Have you ever heard
Of the elephant bird?
It’s a wonder that it can fly
The fist time I heard
I thought it absurd
In fact I thought it a lie

But after some trying
A bird book I was eyeing
Said “Exist? They really do!”
But don’t worry they’re rare
And you don’t need to care
Unless one flies over you

“George!”
“Abe!…ah….6042A….I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”
“No…3088D..I don’t believe so.”
“George….how did you get that notch there near the corner?”
“Oh, that….yeah….zipper nipped me as she pulled me out to pay for a balloon at the Dollar Store. LOVE THAT PLACE.”
“Zippers…yeah….why can’t humans stick to the soft old folding wallets?”

“Progress…I guess. I hate those vending machines too, though I will admit they do help with the wrinkles you know!”

“By the way, I saw dozens of new Franklins last week when I passed through the First National Bank. I kinda like the older versions of those bills that look more like us don’t you?”
“Ah…progress again….but yes we’re more…classic…traditional…Abe.”

“By the way…I don’t really like going through the Federal Banks. I’m always nervous that they’ll examine me and decide that I’m too worn to stay in circulation.”
“Oh you’ve got a long time before …ah….I hate to say it….but you know….the SHREDDING!”
“Let’s change the subject Abe…oh wait is she gonna?…..yep….well…see you again I hope!”
“You’re gonna be with lots of friends here at the Dollar Store….see ya! George.”

“Gosh it’s lonely in here now that George is gone. I hope we go to the supermarket. I love being in those cash trays with lots of other Lincolns.”
Then a new voice yelled out….”Hey….you’re puttin’ me in the wrong….oh no…..”
“What are you doing in here? You don’t belong here this compartment is just for bills, legal tender, CASH!”
“Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do Lincoln….Might as well make the best of it….I’m Visa but you can just call me “VEE”!

“What’s wrong Tommy?” said Henny.
Tom pointed his wing toward the side of the home tree.
“What?” asked Henny.
“The Calendar.”
“Yes it’s very nice…new isn’t ….OH….I SEE!”
“Yeah…THIS WEEK!” mumbled Tom with his beak drooped down into his floppy red wattle.
“We were fine last year…remember?” Henny reminded Tom attempting to cheer him up.
“Yeah, but I still lost two tail feathers scraping that high stone fence escaping those camouflaged humans.”
Tom was a very unhappy turkey that, try as he might, could NOT keep from staring at the calendar that had NOVEMBER 28th circled in red.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” Tom jumped at the noise.
“That was farmer Walter’s old pickup backfiring….relax Tom.” said Henny using her softest gobble.
“We should just get rid of this calendar Tom if it’s gonna trouble you so……wait…TOM…this calendar is….from last year 2023…Thanksgiving was YESTERDAY!”
Tom looked as if a huge load had been lifted from his wings. He and Henny trotted off, wing in wing into farmer Walter’s garden and celebrated the day AFTER Thanksgiving by chomping on a small leftover pumpkin and wishing each other a “Happy NO Thanksgiving”.

Hi…my name…well my ACTUAL Latin name is Canis Lupis Familiaris but my human family named me “Butch” Not in love with that moniker but you know humans.
Anyhow, I’ve got this 10 year old boy named Chuck who is my responsibility to raise to know how to be kind to animals and of course, especially dogs!
He’s pretty good most of the time and I do have to take him out for walks on the end of my leash once a day and have to nudge the feeding bowl occasionally to remind him of my feeding time (I can’t open the cabinet where they keep the stuff…yet).
He doesn’t respect my nap times when he’s out of school and that really bugs me but, like I said, he’s only human so I forgive him…time and time again.
I could make life really difficult for him but I try to abide by the Golden Dog Rule because after all, he’s still a human puppy.
Humans think that a dog’s life is so easy. Well, let me tell you, raising a boy in today’s world is no piece of dog biscuit!
We’ll go out to the edge of the woods and Chuck will start doing just about EVERYTHING his Mom had just told him NOT to do.
And you KNOW that if he gets caught or worse yet, HURT…it will be TOTALLY MY FAULT and no table scraps for a week. (however long that is I’m not sure)
Maybe I’m just having a bad day and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful to my….oh I hate this word…OWNERS…they really are very nice…except for visits to the Vet.
So all in all my advice to you “would-be” boy-sitting canines out there is to pick yourself a good kid that hugs and pets you a lot and slips you plenty of treats when his parents aren’t looking too closely.
I’ll tell how to do that in my next blog.

Dog Chow for now…BUTCH.

Freddy opened his mouth for his morning “ribbit” and absolutely nothing came out. He tried again and again but still…nothing. This had never happened before. Well he couldn’t croak when he was a tadpole, but neither could any of the other tadpoles in the pond.
If a frog can’t croak…well….he might as well be a salamander…not that there’s anything wrong with being a salamander, but Freddy had heard his father’s booming bull frog croak and wanted to be and sound just like him.
Since Freddy was a “wild” frog he wasn’t even aware that veterinarians existed. Frogs, like all animals that live in nature must deal with illness and injuries on their own. Freddy hoped that his voice would return very soon and he tried gargling stream water, but that didn’t help.
Freddie was hoping that none of his pond friends would notice his “not” croaking, but as Sammy slug slithered by he whispered ” What’s a matta…got a frog in yer throat? Hee Hee Hee…..” and he slimed on down the rock on the pond bank leaving his tell-tale track.
“Now everyone’s gonna know that I can’t croak. That Sammy is such a gossipy slug!”
But other pond residents were sympathetic to Freddy’s condition and waved their fins or shook their shells as Tommy the turtle did, but none had a solution for Freddy’s condition.
As Freddy contemplated his next attempt at a cure, an infrequent visitor to the pond a large white swan landed and glided nearby to Freddy. “Oh Miss swan do you know anything about…ah sore throats? I noticed that you have a very long neck and so at one time or another you must have….” But the swan held up a black webbed foot, shook her head, then immediately flew off dripping water as she rose into the air, circled the pond, then flew off. At first, Freddy thought that the swan’s actions were very rude, then later he found out from Mr. Mallard that she was actually a “Mute Swan,” and that explained everything!
Then Freddy thought about who would be the smartest, wisest animal he knew, and as he was wondering, he heard “WHO…Wh…WHO…”
It was the barn owl Ollie. Surely he was the smartest animal around the pond. Freddy would ask him. But wait! Owls sometimes liked to dine on reptilians, but Freddy was an amphibian wasn’t he? Just to be safe, Freddy waited until Ollie had finished his dinner or breakfast or whatever it was. You couldn’t be sure with owls, they keep such odd hours.
When Freddy was certain that Ollie was hooting an “after meal” hoot, he jumped around to get Ollie’s attention. After all, he couldn’t yell up at him. It took a while but finally, Ollie saw Freddie and swooped down and landed on the rock next to Freddy’s lily pad.
“What’s up?” asked Ollie wiping his beak off with his left talon. Freddy pointed to his throat and whispered…”I can’t croak….”
“Ummmm…have you tried gargling?”
“Yep!” whispered Freddy.
“Ummmm….well….maybe you could hop over to that house over there, and get onto the back porch. A kid lives there and he’ll want to keep you as a pet, and when he finds out that you are a frog that can’t croak, his Mom will give you human medicine and cure you. Then you can escape back here. Well…see you later!” Then the Owl flew off quickly and silently back up into his tree hollow.
“Pretty smart!” thought Freddy, but then he remembered that his Dad had told him to watch out for humans because some of them eat….Freddy didn’t even want to finish the thought about his frog legs, and decided that Ollie’s suggestion just wouldn’t do.
Freddy also tended to dismiss the suggestions of the nearby squirrels, because he thought they were nuts. A honey bee said that honey was a great treatment for a sore throat, but wasn’t about to give up any in his hive, and Freddy had no way of getting up to the nest anyway.
After about three days of inquiry and contemplation, Freddy was just about to give up and be a “mute” frog…perhaps the world’s first, when Pierre the rabbit hopped by. Freddy was about to ask him about curing laryngitis, but then realized rabbits never talked anyhow, they just wiggled their noses and ears and silence was one of their defenses to predators. Oh yes and a rabbit’s very fast legs too, let them scoot away from danger.
Freddy decided to give his throat just one last try before committing himself to a life of non-croaking, when a faint, and somewhat crackling “Ribbit” emitted from his throat. “Huh?” He tried again and as he kept trying, his voice kept getting stronger and stronger, and soon he was about 95% back to his old croaky self.
All of the other pond animals heard him. Some inhabitants of the pond were happier to hear Freddy return to his natural croaking state than others.
The mayflies, crickets and mosquitoes, were delighted to return to the pond now that they could tell exactly where Freddy was, which let them be sure that they were as far from Freddy as they could get.
“I guess sometimes you just have to let nature take its course!” said Freddy, which of course, it always does.

If you were a grape you might hang in a bunch
And some hungry kid might have you for lunch
If you were a grape maybe grape juice you’d be
You’d have to be squeezed but you would flow free

If you were a grape you could be a jam or jelly
And you might wind up in somebody’s belly
If you were a grape you might become wine
You’d be in a bottle for a very long time

Yes a grape has the potential to be different things
Just like girls and boys that can be anything
Your potential is so great it’s simply amazin’
In fact, I’m so old I’ve turned into a raisin

Once upon a time there was a clock named Saul
He was the type of clock that hung on the wall
Well he could see very well all that went on
But he’d have rather been a watch since the second he was born

He always knew what time it was and was never slow or fast
But he had dreams of a better life as the time passed and passed
He dearly loved the Spring because springing ahead was fun
But he dreaded the Fall ’cause turning back hurt his hands some

He wanted a chime or at least a bell
Or maybe a voice so the time he could tell
But it seemed no one cared that he couldn’t speak
When they looked for the time…they just took a peek

“What if I stopped running maybe then they would stare
And they’d take me down and fix me with care
But then what if they didn’t and just threw me out
You shouldn’t do things if you have any doubt”

“So I guess it’s time to be thankful and happy I’m here
And look forward to timekeeping …year after year
I’m so glad we talked and had this little chat
If I weren’t a wall clock…I’d wish to be that!”

“OK,OK you guys….and gals, just have patience out there. We’ll get to all of you I promise. Who was next?…I lost track!” The Emperor Penguin doorman checked his clipboard…”Now Mr. Pachyderm, what is it exactly that you can’t do?”
The huge grey elephant trumpeted before admitting “I….can’t…..JUMP!”
The penguin checked off the elephant and allowed the huge animal to squeeze through the double doors, with the aid of about six employees pushing the south end of the north-facing creature.
“Next!” shouted the Penguin.
The doorman whose name was Ernie, got his job after being a regular attending member of the Cannots and even though Ernie couldn’t fly like other birds, he made a GREAT doorman.
“NEXT!!!” Ernie had to shout to be heard and then felt a tapping on his ankle. When he looked down he saw a black snake looking up at him. “SSS…my name’sss SSSSSam and I can’t run. BUT I CAN SSSLITHER!”
“OK…ah SSSSSAM! Got it!” And the snake slithered into the club.
Outside of the Cannot club the animals were lined up a block long. Ernie was a very intelligent Penguin and after assessing the crowd of animals lined up, he had a thought that would make his job easier and faster and relieve the long lines quickly.
“How many of you, like me, can’t fly?” he yelled.
The raccoons, and possums and groundhogs and dogs and cats and well, nearly every waiting animal except for the ducks and geese raised their paws!
The chickens and pheasants in line raised their wings just about halfway but would need another CANNOT to get them admitted because although they don’t fly well, they do get off of the ground.
The chickens and pheasants were eventually allowed inside because none of them could climb a tree.
Just as Ernie was about to close the entrance door he noticed a small boy leaning against the side of the building and sadly looking down at the ground.
“Ah…kid…what’s the matter? Did your pet go inside the club?” asked a concerned Ernie.
“No…I’m Eric and I was told that this is the Cannot club and I…cannot….READ!”
“Oh my! Well. Here at the club we don’t celebrate what each of us cannot do but we cheer and try to improve the things that we CAN all do. But, in your case, I think that since nearly everyone I know of can read, we will all be happy to teach you how to read. I guarantee you that after lessons from our best readers you will be such a good reader that the library will know you on a first name basis! AND…since you can’t fly either, without an airplane that is, you qualify, so welcome to the Cannot Club.”
And Ernie swung the doors wide open for Eric.
After just a few weeks Eric was reading really well and in fact was reading stories about kids and their pets to all of the Cannot Club.
And it was at Eric’s suggestion that the Cannot Club shortened their name to the “Can Club,” which of course is true of everyone, human or animal, if they learn and work hard at something that they CAN do.
Who knows? One day at a zoo or in India or Africa somewhere…an elephant will JUMP!

In a stream so clear and bright,
Swims a minnow, small and light.
But one day, with a curious mind,
It left the water, land to find.

With tiny fins, it took a leap,
Onto the shore, where grasses sweep.
It wiggled through the dewy blades,
And marveled at the forest glades.

The world above was vast and new,
With skies so wide and flowers’ hue.
It met a beetle, shiny black,
And followed on a winding track.

Through fields of green and hills so high,
The minnow saw the world go by.
Though land was strange, it felt so grand,
To be a minnow on the land.

But soon it missed the water’s flow,
The gentle waves, the undertow.
So back it went, with tales to tell,
Of land adventures, all went well.