fat paw design

Hard Drive

by Peter Knox Hyde-Smith

Never drive to town with your bright lights on.
Even if the moon is out, or when it's dawn.
The only words that come your way are very strong.
So never drive to town with your bright lights on.

a poem for Galatia

MEMORIES OF MY MOTHER
by Phebe Smith

Sewing and Singing, Singing and Sewing ... and Sewing
Cooking, Baking and Singing, 
Singing, Cooking and Baking
She sang like an Angel, She now sings with the Angels
Two days before home going
Mother sang along with me,
Squeezing my hand, keeping tempo 

A Strong Woman..
Raising nephews and nieces the same as three daughters and a son
Everyone feeling they were her favorite one..
Loving and giving, Living for Giving and Loving
Encouraging, Affirming
Reflecting the beauty and compassion of her Lord
Her working faith evident to all

No one a stranger, - only a friend she had not met before
Dressed in humility, with open heart, open mind, 
Open hand, open home,
Embracing all who came along
Patient and loving, loving and patient
Seeking ways to serve mankind

And then a fall, and then a massive stroke
Despairing, questioning, regretting her inability to do things as before
Wanting to help ease our load in caring for her

She tried, and succeeded in the beginning
Making baklava, koulourakia, quilted potholders, crocheted baby blankets
She tried, and then she tired of trying to do the physical things
Yet though physically failing, her memory amazed us, rarely failing her

My memory of and love for my loving "Best Ever Mother in The World" 
I will treasure always.  
I loved you Mom, I love you still
Looking forward to seeing you again to tell you
'I have always loved you Mom, because I never doubted your love'

Captain Patch and the Calico Banshee

by Peter Kearnan Hyde-Smith

Captain Patch slipped to the edge of the barn. It was dark, though the two sliding white-washed doors shone out through the night. Ordnance stood at every turn, an old rototiller, a couple of saddle racks, medicine cupboard, and things he could not even make out. He flicked his tail as his green eyes widened at the sliver of moon light that shone through the uneven crack between the doors, which had been left slightly ajar.

He crept forward to the very edge of that space, and peered around. He heard a quiet rustling behind him. "Just the sheep", he thought to himself. Patch was nervous, his objective was lit up only a few tens of yards away. It was the wooden porch, stilted, sheltered and gated, but not too high for him to jump up and escape predation.

The yard was like an obstacle course. A trailer stood a few yards in front of the barn, dark and foreboding. To the right of it an old pick-up truck stuffed full of garbage threw shadows at confused angles. They were the first safe houses of his journey. He plotted his course, concentrating on the dark hollow between the ground and the trailer bottom. Patch steeled himself, 5...his heart beat faster, 4...the excitement throbbed in his head, 3...he commenced the final three, 2...

"BAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Capt. Patch jumped a foot in the air and launched himself forward, scrabbling for the dark underside of the trailer. His hair bristled on end, fuming with frantic static energy, his tail reflexively blooming into the shape of a ripe pine cone. His tail switched as he collected his nerves. "Stupid sheep, always interfering."

He turned back to face his objective. The longest part was next, the open yard from the trailer to the porch. Unprotected, dangerous, it was like a no-man's land in the middle of a war torn country, a place where exposing your back could mean death. He flexed his claws, hoping to get the nervous feeling out of himself. He could sense something, almost smell it, fishy, but there was nothing he could do about it. Patch slunk low, beginning a slow acceleration across the grit gravel of the driveway.

From behind a tree, something moved, shrouded by the darkness. Silently slinking around the roots of an old Box Elder, she felt the moving wind teasing her brown and white pelt, still hidden by the long grass. Her jade eyes were fixed on the grey thing creeping across the driveway, a long-awaited target. She watched as Captain Patch accelerated into a full blown gallop, not realizing the waiting surprise. As the grey came three–quarters of the way to safety, a waver of white wriggled its hindquarters and whiskers, and shot from the grass. Captain Patch had no time to think. It was the Calico Banshee, her eyes and claws intent on his rump.

In a time honored ritual, Patch flattened himself to the ground, and the Calico Banshee flew overhead and skidded to a halt in the dew laden grass.

Patch hissed, "Listen here, you mangy bag of fleas, we're going to be coyote–bait if you don't cut this out. We need to get Da to open the door before we're done for."

But before the calico could respond, a call rang out from the house. "Sophishcious–o–soxcious, Soph–i–ophie–ophie, come on Sophs..."

"See you later, Patch," replied the Banshee, her half toothed grin disappearing towards his original objective. The woof of the dogs echoed in the background as the door was held open. Captain Patch wasted no time following Sophie, his tail flicking with annoyance at the indignity. He snuck in the door right at her heels, only to find himself face–to–face with his feared enemies, the House Empress's toughs.

His tail pine–coned once again and his face contorted while his back arched, his impressive vampiresque fangs inviting the dogs to try their luck with his deft talons. Honey Bear, the ginger–pumpkin colored lead dog, looked at him with a diabolical glint in her eyes, her face smiling and her curly tail wagging. The lummox Lily, a black Labrador, squeaked as the excitement grew.

The space at the bottom of the steps grew tense, and the blaring of TV music in the background added to the suspense. Honey Bear shifted her weight ever so slightly, inching towards him. Lily still squeaked like taut cables of a suspension bridge. A wicked hiss escaped Patch's mouth. As if on cue, Sophie slide past behind him, offering no help.

Suddenly the Mother of the house shouted out, "Get 'em BearLily, Get 'em!"

Sophie immediately launched into a full run, taking refuge beneath the clutter around the loom in the sewing room opposite the living room, with the stairs in between.

In the meantime, Captain Patch lashed out with silver paws, smacking the noses of the dogs as they lunged in excitement. After a few moments, as the dogs closed in, Patch decided discretion was the better part of valor. He quickly darted away, covering his retreat with frequent turns to fend off the pursuing dogs. Captain Patch finally reached the open door to the safety of the utility porch, and with a flourish, jumped on top of the high boxes where food and his favorite sleeping space awaited him. It was good to be in the warmth of the fire and to be able to rest after a night full of excitement.

Attention Deficit Disorder

by Peter Knox Hyde-Smith

Manu the Gnu was a lucky gnu. I mean really lucky. He had four bum knees and a chronically sore neck on the account that he was middle aged and had bounced so many lions, cheetahs, and leopards off his back, he'd lost count. From a very early age Manu had the knack of being in the right place at the right time, and knowing when to duck. Invariably it went like this ... Manu would be hoofing it with the rest of the heard with a murder of said large predator(s) on their tail. Just about the time some razor clawed furball would land on his back, Manu would trip, stumble, stub his hoof, take a left turn at Albuquerque, and said large predator(s) would find their noses plastered in hapless gnu, just the next one over. Today, Manu the Gnu was really ticked off. His mother had always told him don't be the last one in the water, excepting a week ago he was. Fortunately, the croc who had Manu by the throat managed to impale himself on a jagged shard of submerged stump while rolling Manu under. Having escaped death by drowning, Manu spent the next seven days hunkered down in the grass by the river while his half–crushed windpipe and holey neck slowly healed. Now he was just getting underway, heading south, and a fortnight of hauling ass to catch up with the heard.

Grigiot the Lion had black hair, and as of three days ago a temper to match. It was then, after spending a few days cruising for chicks, he had returned to the pride to find it in tatters. His old man and little brother were waiting for him, picking through the remnants of a zebra. Well, at least his dad was. Bro was playing bat cat with two young hyenas whose mother had her head shoved into the far end of the strippedy thing. There was lion hair and bits and and parts lying about the place. "What happened?" "Oh, there was a bit of a tussle." "You think? Where's ma?" "South with half the pride, other half's been taken north by some raiders from Westveldt." "Yeah, and dad and I are going cherry picking." "You're an idiot. How'd you survive this mess?" "Discretion. Go find your mother and tell her to stay put with the rest of the cats. I'll be back, got business north." "Aw, come on!" "Get. When you've got your license, you can drive." "Whatever." "Take your broth–...where did he go?" "You mean that speck of dust?" "Yes, that ... remember, there'll be a lesson in this."

Today Grigiot the Lion's black hair was wet from swimming the river, pads caked with mud, and starving since he refused to eat zebra that had hyena spit on it. Skulking through the grass, Grigiot could smell food. This really annoyed him because he was going to have to go girly and chase it himself. He stopped and listened. Grigiot exclaimed to himself, "At least it's moving slowly." Aiming himself in the general direction of the food, Grigiot charged through the grass. In an instant a dark shape appeared and Grigiot lept...at nothing.

Stabbing pain shot through Manu's left foreleg as he stepped unexpectedly into a shallow ditch, cut through the tall grass by draining water. Just as suddenly, he found himself spinning through the air, coming to rest on all four legs, nose to nose with a big black lion. Manu the Gnu yanked back his head. The lion screamed.

Stabbing pain shot through Grigiot's head as the gnu tried to pull away. Grigiot slashed at the gnu with his claws, which started a vicious cycle of slash, yank, pain, scream, slash, yank, pain, scream. And through it all, Grigiot could not seem to get his face away from Manu's."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!!!" "What?" "Stop pulling." "Then stop clawing at me." "What the hell happened?" Manu paused to eye Grigiot, then started chuckling, causing the lion to whimper. "You stupid cat, I've got a horn shoved up your nostril. And it feels like it's hooked on something solid." "Oh great, well let me off." "What, so you can eat me?" "Well that's what I am supposed to do, isn't it?" "In your dreams. Either you promise not to eat me, or you're going for a two–week walk of pain to the south end of the park." "What?!?" "You heard me." Manu snorted and shook his head. "Yeowowowowow, all right already. I promise." "Promise what?" "I promise not to eat you if you let me go." "Forever?" "Forever" mewed Grigiot. Something snapped when Manu and Grigiot parted.

Grigiot still had a rip roaring sinus headache when he met up with the (south half of the) pride 10 days later, on account of the fact that the pain caused his walk to be rather crooked, thus spending a lot of time veering to the left. (Grigiot's bro and Old Man showed up a week after with the rest (north half) of the pride. The Old Man appeared with a smirk, apparently none the worse for wear. Manu's brother on the other hand, seemed to have donated two ear tips, three claws, and a curiously maw shaped hank of mane. The Old Man winked at Grigiot and said, "Told you so.")

Manu's luck held, and he met up with the herd within the aforementioned fortnight. Manu's life went on, a redux of what had gone before.

Many years later, Grigiot the Lion found Manu the Gnu dead in the grass near the river where they first met. Muzzle grey and hair sparse, there seemed to be no other injury upon him. Knowingly, Grigiot ate Manu's heart and became lucky. Grigiot then marked a great stinky circle about Manu, and nearly starved death protecting him from the hyenas and buzzards. When the west winds started and the pollen blew up, Grigiot sneezed blood, and something hard and black shot out of his nose. Because he was lucky, Grigiot's headache went away and he no longer walked crooked. Then the rains came. Grigiot the Lucky Lion went east and Manu the Gnu returned to earth.

Here is the line–up for my fantasy baseball team, cottontails.

Batting

C — Iván Rodríguez (C Detroit Tigers)

1B — Carlos Guillén (1B,SS Detroit Tigers)

2B — B.J. Upton (2B,OF Tampa Bay Rays)

3B — Miguel Cabrera (3B Detroit Tigers)

SS — Édgar Rentería (SS Detroit Tigers)

OF — Maglio Ordóñez (OF Detroit Tigers)

OF — Gary Sheffield (OF Detroit Tigers)

OF — Hedeki Matsui (OF New York Yankees)

Util — Delmon Young (OF Minnestoa Twins)

Bench — James Loney (1B LA Dodgers)

Bench — Yunel Escobar (2B,3B,SS Atlanta Braves)

Bench — Ty Wiggington (1B,2B,3B Houston Astros)

Pitching

SP — John Smolz (SP Atlanta Braves)

SP — Diasuke Matsuzaka (SP Boston Red Sox)

RP — Carlos Marmol (RP Chicago Cubs)

RP — Joe Borowski (RP Cleveland Indians)

P — Jeremy Bonderman (SP Detroit Tigers)

P — Jonathan Broxton (RP LA Dodgers)

P — Derek Lowe (SP LA Dodgers)

Bench — Pat Neshek (RP Minnesota Twins)

I finished 9 out of 10 last year. I think I drafted much better this year, so I hope in this year's league of 14 teams that making the play–offs is in order.