He didn’t mind being cold…frozen even, but Sammy the Sad Snowball wanted to be more than just temporary winter sports ammunition.
“Maybe I could be part of a great snow sculpture or even part of a snowman or snow-woman, although I’ve never seen one of those.”
“Those were kind hands that shaped me into what I am today, and by the way, I do feel lucky that I wasn’t thrown at someone and maybe hurt them as I hit!”
“But I just have the feeling that I could be something more important, more helpful, part of something big and wonderful.”
Sammy was just sitting there, along the side of the park pathway when a warm knitted gloved hand lifted him up and caressed him, rounding him even more than he had been.
He was then carried over to the newly dedicated Memorial statue of a soldier and a cannon that was covered in snow.
“What a great statue ” thought Sammy. “Someone made that with their hands just as I was made. Of course bronze isn’t snow but the method is kinda similar.”
Then Sammy was gently placed down on the top of the base of the statue where he had a good view of the soldier and the cannon and of all of Main Street and the people.
Then an older couple came up to look at where Sammy was. They brushed off lots of snow from the soldier and the cannon and then stepped back to view the newly revealed sculpture.
The woman said to the man “Isn’t it a nice tribute to the soldiers?”
Then the man replied…”My yes…and so creative too. I think the best part is how someone used a single real snowball to represent the cannonball. It makes the whole tribute just perfect!”

Ten year old Sara lived in an historic Elizabethan house up on the hill on the edge of town. She liked the house because it looked very much like her doll house that her Grandpa had built for her when she was seven. She also liked the house because she had her very own bedroom which she didn’t have in the other house that her family lived in over in Springland…the next town over.
Sara’s room had nice high ceilings and a huge window that looked out onto the back garden. Her parents had bought new lace curtains for her window and Sara loved to look through them out to the birds in the morning. In fact a wren had made a nest in the limb of the Sycamore tree just outside her window and the eggs were surely just about to hatch.
But one thing that Sara didn’t particularly like about her room was…well…the doorknob that sometimes would rattle and turn in the middle of the night when NO ONE was there!
Sara couldn’t keep her door locked, her parents forbid it…for safety they told her…so that made the turning doorknob even more scary. Sara told her parents about it but they said that she was dreaming or had awakened and was still drousy. They didn’t have any trouble with their doorknobs…so “don’t worry…just ignore it!”

Sara’s neighbors were Mr. and Mrs. Carver and they were always on their porch when Sara got home from school and sometimes she would go and visit them in the afternoons.
Mr. Carver wrote children’s books and Sara thought that he was very funny and a bit silly too and Mrs. Carver made really good lemonade. One afternoon Sara told the Carvers about her doorknob and they grew very silent and looked at each other for the longest time. Mrs. Carver said…”Well Sara…I’m…ah…sure there is nothing to…ah…worry about!” But Sara noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Carver looked worried themselves.

“Maybe we should tell her Dear…” Mr. Carver said to his wife.
“Maybe…we should tell Sara’s parents and they can decide whether or not to tell her!”
Sara…was really intrigued now…”Oh…NOW you both MUST tell me…my parents don’t even believe me about the doorknob!”
“Well Sara…Oh I can’t tell Sara…she’s such a sweet little girl….” Mrs. Carver looked at her husband.
“It’s too late now we’ve already said WAY too much….tell her…I hope her parents forgive us if they ever find out!”
“Well…Sara…Many…MANY years ago…perhaps a hundred years ago a little girl named Gwendolin lived in your house…when it was new. And I’m pretty sure her room is now YOUR bedroom. Now mind you this is just what we heard when we moved here 30 years ago…”
“PLEASE…Mrs. Carver…did something bad happen to Gwendolin? Tell me.”
“Well…nobody knows for sure…one night her parents heard a strange rattling in her bedroom and then…she…was…gone!”
“Her toys were there…her cat was there and her clothes were still in her closet but no Gwendolin.”
“GOSH!” said Sara.
Then Mr. Carver said..”The town searched and searched for Gwendolin for weeks without success. Finally her parents moved away. We heard that Gwendolin’s Aunt Esmerelda had come and gotten her and taken her to the Aunt’s house but no one was ever sure exactly what happened.”
“GOSH!” Sara said again.
The family that occupied your house before you lived there, spoke about your doorknob and thought that it was the ghost of either Gwendolin or Aunt Esmerelda and decided to move away.”
“GEE!” said Sara deciding not to say Gosh for the third time.
“So you see Sara…it might have just been a close relative involved in Gwendolin’s disappearence…and, after all…it WAS over a hundred years ago. And of course…the whole story could have just been made up by somebody trying to scare us!” Added Mr. Carver.
“Yes Sara…I’m sure someone made up that story…there wasn’t any TV in those days and people told stories and played games for entertainment back then.” Mrs. Carver said.
“Still…there IS my doorknob!” said Sara.
“UUUmmm….” uttered Mr. Carver.
Sara slept through the nights for the next week with no doorknob rattling until on the eighth morning Sara thought..”Maybe I was just dreaming or sleepy or something…but then…how would the Carver’s know about my doorknob?”
That night there was a full moon and the baby Wren chicks and their Mother were sleeping and so was Sara…until about Two AM the doorknob started to rattle. Just slightly at first and then turning so much that Sara felt that it was sure to open it was twisting so far around.
Then Sara wondered whether to pull all the covers over her head or go TO the door and see exactly what WAS going on!
Sara was braver than most girls her age and MUCH more inquisitive and although she was shaking all over she decided to go to the door…and…open it to see who…or WHAT WAS THERE!

The doorknob kept turning and as Sara got within two feet of the door…the doorknob clicked and the door very…VERY slowly started to open. Sara stepped back…her heart beating surely as fast as it had ever beaten before and her hands shaking harder than they had ever shook before…and then a strange bluish white light shone in through the door crack. Sara stepped back another step but leaned around to peek at the door jam.

Then SUDDENLY the door FLUNG WIDE OPEN and Sara froze…not shaking not moving not blinking not even breathing…just staring at the two eerie figures standing in the doorway. It looked as if a little girl about Sara’s age and an older woman were…well…FLOATING in the doorway.
The little girl looked about the room and then looked up at the older lady and then instantly in a POOF!!… they were gone!
Sara’s heart was beating like a machine gun and her hands were trembling again but she took a deep breath and walked into the doorway and looked around…NOTHING! But it DID seem awfully cold in the doorway but got warmer and warmer as Sara stood there wondering if she really was dreaming.
After a minute or two Sara closed the door and went back to bed where it took her until way past three AM to get back to sleep.
Sara told the Carvers about the episode the next afternoon and they said that they thought that it was INDEED Gwendolin and her Aunt Esmerelda and that since Gwendolin’s parents had moved away…Gwendolin and Aunt Esmerelda not finding Gwendolin’s parents… left to go somewhere else to find them.
Mr. Carver said “Sara…I bet you a nickel that your doorknob will never rattle again!”

And he was right!

THE END…I hope!

“I don’t know why I sit here, hour after hour on this uncomfortable bank…wetting my line. That’s really all I’m doing! I just might be the worst fisherman EVER! It IS relaxing, actually it’s boring if truth be told. And with the cost of the rod and reel, the bait, these waders that I never use, and the vest. I DO love the vest though with all the pockets and little loops for the flys, the khaki “Ernest Hemmingway” look of it. He was a FISHERMAN…” THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA”, but he was more of a BILL fisherman. He’d never sit on a muddy bank like this for hours on end and then make a stop by the fish market on the way home to salvage at least SOME of his masculine dignity…no he’d NEVER do that.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“This hook is KILLIN’ me! It really hurts and it’s very restrictive too. I just KNOW I’m gonna drown! I just know it! But does HE care? NO, I DON’T THINK SO!…he just sits there all relaxed, NOT in pain…NOT drowning…and these pesky fish scare me, bumping into me with their lips, I guess they are lips. I don’t think I can take much more of this. If the idiot had just…kinda…cut me in two at least half of me could go on my merry way…BUT NO!!! He wants me to wriggle …well I’ve got news for him…I AIN’T wrigglin’. If I, perish the thought, play “dead” these stupid fish won’t even notice me and jerkface there might reel me back in and replace me with cousin Harvey… HATE that worm…and throw me away on that beautiful muddy bank. Well, that’s my plan and I’m stickin’ to it!!!”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Look at that dufus up there on the bank. What does he think…we’re STUPID or somethin’? I mean, even a smelt wouldn’t fall for that old “worm on the hook” trick. He didn’t even put the bait on properly…look you can clearly see the point stickin’ through that ugly unappealing earthworm. I mean, it practically takes your appetite away! Excuse me a second there’s a Mayfly on the surface…”GULP!”…got ‘em! Love it! Well anyhow, I think it’s an affront to all of us fish the way some of these “sport” fishermen show such utter disrespect for our intelligence don’t you Charlie…ah…Charlie? Where are you…OH NO!…Charlie…how could you???”

Did you know there is a breed

Of cats that have no tails?

It took a lot of research

Seeing why this trait prevails

It happened many years ago

On porches by the sea

Upon an Island known as Man

It was said to be

The people there were restful

Loved to watch the scenery

But the people were out numbered

Friendly felines seemed to be…

Always near the old folks

Taking in the view

The cats would laze along porch floors

As cats are prone to do

But it started causing problems

There was screeching everywhere

So the felines cut their tails off

To avoid those rocking chairs!

“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!”

“What’s the matter Tee Dee?” asked the robin to the dove.
“Oh…I don’t know…I guess I’m just tired of being…a….dove.”
“Really? My I would think that it would be great. You’re so big and well… dominating at the feeder…other birds move out of the way for you.” replied the robin red-breast known locally as Robby.
“Wait….shhhhh….don’t….move….a….feather….”
There was a very long period of total silence and stillness between the two bird friends. Then finally….”Ah…I think he’s gone…all clear buddy.” TD breathed a sigh of relief.
“If there’s one problem with these feeders it’s that they can sometimes attract….HAWKS!” exclaimed Robin with a relieved sigh.
“Yeah…I never did figure out why some birds…well…you know….we shouldn’t be….FOOD….to other birds! Should we?” asked TD.
” I certainly wouldn’t think so!” agreed Robby.
Then a gold finch flew to the limb where TD and Robby were chatting and said, in his high-pitched chirp…’Hey…what’s happenin’ guys?”
“Did you see that enormous red-tailed hawk just then?” asked Robbie.
“Sure….but I’m too quick and smart for him. Any thistle seeds today guys?”
“How should I know…I don’t eat that stuff! It takes a lot more than thistle seeds to keep me goin’.” Declared TD.
“Yeah, gimme some sunflower seeds, dried cherries….you know…the “Supreme Wildbird Seed” that you find ONLY at the better feeding stations.”Yummed TD.
Just then a male Cardinal landed on the feeder perch. “What’s up?”
“Hey Red…how’s it goin’?” Asked Robby.
“Great…just wanna get some of those dried cherries they serve here. Must be the color.” Red said as he pushed some grey seeds off the tray and gulped down some cherries.
The squirrels were chomping up the seeds that fell to the ground under the feeder then looking up at the birds waiting for more.
Then Robby said “Well…see y’all later. I’m going North North East eleven flaps over and get some of that suet they put out at the stone house. Then I might stop by the stream and get a drink….then…..” He was still chirping as he flew off.
“I wish that I was a robin. They fly so fast and have so many friends.” TD was restating his wishes to Red.
“Not me…I wanna be that red-tailed Hawk! That’s power!” said Red looking up into the sky at the hawk circling effortlessly at a height of four hundred fifty feet and using his “Hawkeye” to look for movement way below in the weeds.
But the Hawk was thinking “…Those lucky birds down there. Get to go from one feeder to another and fill up without ever doing any real hunting. Wish I’d have been ANY one of them!”
But then Robby squawked “WORM!” and all the birds flew off the feeder straight down dive bombing the emerging worm who didn’t even look up to see them swooping at him.
Afterward, even though all the bird friends didn’t agree on what other species of bird they’d rather be, they all agreed that they were glad that they weren’t a worm!

I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff. I mean I could really get into a lot of trouble with other mutts in the canine club, but I’ve always liked humans…well most of ’em.
Being a dog, and when I say dog I mean a REAL dog, not one of those so called “purebreds” as they like to be referred to. Life is not really too bad…IF you’ve got the right “owner” (hate that term) Now I personally prefer table scraps but my…ah…family feeds me dry food and an occasional dog bone. I get petted a lot but not NEARLY as often as when I was a puppy, and I get outside almost too much. Hey, I’m not a big fan of cold weather or 100 degree days either!
We dogs understand humans lots better than humans understand us. Of course the intent of this story here is to close the gap between us a bit.
We can smell better than you can, although that sometimes is a major drawback believe me, and we can hear lots better too. By the way; if you know which idiot human invented the dog whistle let me know. Some of my friends would be interested in “meeting” them too!
And also by the way, those electronic fences!!! Another idiot dude by dogdom standards. Not only do we have to learn how the stupid thing works the HARD way…but all those unleashed mean dogs can walk right through and get at us. It isn’t fair…and it HURTS!
Oh I know….I know it sounds like we dogs don’t appreciate our humans but that really isn’t true. We’re not called “Man’s Best Friend” for nothin’.
We LOVE fetching sticks, well most of us do, some dogs are just grumpy. And we don’t mind getting slippers and bringing them to our human, although sometimes it IS tempting to chew and rip ’em around pretending that they are freshly caught game.
But try to understand…we DO have instincts and were once wild animals that had to hunt and stuff before we were “domesticated.”
Let’s just enjoy each other’s company and dogs and humans will get along great.  By the way…support your local SPCA.

“I wish that there was a land where puppies and kittens and boys and girls stayed young and fun for…well, ALWAYS!”
Sarah was an extremely smart little girl who had just celebrated her fourth Birthday and was thinking about all small and young things and how much she enjoyed life as a pre school “Big” little girl.
Adults were “way up there” and most dogs were too big and too scary for little her and even though grown cats were nice to pet and were gentle, she still preferred kittens. One cat was enough but you could never have too many kittens!
“And big kids, especially boys, try to boss you around a lot and parents and all adults always were reminding you who was in charge of EVERYTHING, and you weren’t!”
I did tell you that little Sarah was smart!
Sarah’s family used to have a dog before she was born, but it apparently ran away and all that remained of that era was the old dog house in the far right corner of their back garden.
The worn sign above the front opening read “OSCAR”, (the wire haired terrier’s name) although Sarah couldn’t read all words, she knew what those letters spelled.
Sarah looked inside of the “doggy house” as she called it and it was a mess. Now Sarah was a believer that things that you touch should be clean. But she had to touch all the dirty stuff in the dog house to get it clean. She decided to close her eyes and clean out the old OSCAR home and then wash her hands and maybe arms too…oh and legs too maybe…after she finished making the inside nice and fresh!
That she did, and quickly.
The “stuff” was piled outside the house and since she decided to make the dog house her playhouse she moved all of the debris over to the trash can and put it all in, with the help of a long stick to lift the high lid and then throw all the icky things in, and then close the lid back so no one would know.
Success!
“Sarah…what are you doing Darling?”
It was her Mom…”Just playing Mommy…”
“OK…have fun Dear!”
“Oh I will” thought Sarah…and she sure did!

CHAPTER TWO Adventure

Sarah knocked on the back door and her Mother came to open it and when she saw how dirty Sarah was she said…”Oh my Sarah, we’ve got to clean you up. If you are going to get so dirty you’ll have to wear old jeans and shoes….and…”
Her Mom was still explaining about dirt and playing and clothing and little girls should stay as clean as they can….while Sarah was getting her dirty self cleaned up she was thinking about going right back to the doggy house!
Her Mom said something about “Tom Boy” but Sarah didn’t know any boys named Tom but as soon as Sarah got outside again she went straight to you know where.
Once inside her relatively clean “playhouse” as it now had become, Sarah looked around at the place and noticed a small hole on the right side of the back wall. She tried to look through but it was too tiny an opening. In fact, the hole was so tiny that her little pinky finger barely fit into the space and as she wiggled her pinky, the entire rear of the dog…I mean “playhouse” swung open and there was a wire haired terrier puppy there that began to lick her on the nose!
The tag on the puppy’s collar read “OSCAR”.

“I’ve been wondering when someone would find out about us!” Oscar said in a childlike little voice.
“I’m Sarah!”
“I know!”
“But you were an old dog right?”
“Well, here we are all like you…young and rather small and, most importantly…HAPPY!” Oscar resumed licking Sarah’s face!
“You should tell Mom and Dad that you are here. They miss you Oscar!”
“Oh…I can’t go back. And I really don’t want to either.”
“Is it that wonderful here?”
“Oh my yes. Me and all of my friends will stay little, and friendly and happy and frisky…forever!”
“And if I stay will I remain a little girl for always?”
“Oh sure. But there are problems here just like over there!”
“Problems!” Sarah was a bit surprised by that revelation from Oscar.
“Well, we don’t have any butterflies here, they are all still caterpillars.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Sarah.
“But puppies and kittens and ponies are all GOOD things!”
“Oh yes Sarah, we all love the fun of it all!”
“And some of the bad things are good things too.” explained Oscar.
“Huh?” Sarah didn’t understand that one.
“Yeah, we’ll never be adults and do adult things like drive a car but there are no traffic jams.”
“Dogs don’t drive cars anyhow!”
“Especially not here!” Oscar declared.
“And we never have to go to work!” added Oscar.
“Do you go to school?”
“Well…no but we learn from each other. Many of us were old once and we can still remember important lessons.”
“I guess I understand but I want to be a teenager.” mused Sarah.
“Well…that is your decision. You can go back anytime you wish.”
“But can I visit?” asked Sarah.
“As long as the dog house is still there…yes!”
Oscar took Sarah around to meet some of his friends but there was not a single human around although Oscar said that “Kids come and go often. I guess there are a lot of dog houses in the real world.” Oscar explained.
“Sarah thought for a long time and finally decided that she would rather visit than actually live on the “puppy side” as she called it.
So Sarah went back through the back of the dog house/playhouse and played with her dolls and ate hamburgers and watched butterflies and planned her next visit to Oscar’s.

Little Billy Johnson needed a pair of new shoes. Billy often needed them because his feet would sweat like a waterfall and not just in the summertime, although it WAS worse then. Billy’s Mom always supplied him with a large shaker topped bottle of talcum powder to absorb the wetness and hopefully prevent unpleasant orders emitting from those extremities of Billy’s anatomy.
Since he lived in a small town, Mr. Ned’s Shoe Store and Emporium was within walking distance of Billy’s home. Well, actually EVERYTHING was within walking distance in Corner’s Bluff.
So after a good shower and after slipping on clean white socks Billy talcum powdered the interior of his old pitiful looking shoes. A light dusting just wouldn’t do for these worn out Weejuns since Mr. Ned’s nose was going to be closer than any nose should be to Billy’s “Straight into the trash!” shoes. Billy removed the shaker top and poured a generous amount of neutralizing talc into each shoe. “That outta do it!”…Billy thought, after more than half of the container was poured rather equally into the left then the right shoe.
Billy put on his gray T shirt and his new black jeans and then stepped into his shoes for the last time. As Billy stepped into each of them, a small burst of powder pouffed up the outsides of each shoe and onto the cuff of his jeans leaving a ghostly white tracing that looked like a Strato-cumulus cloud, which Billy was studying about in fifth grade.
“COOL!” thought Billy and he left the house headed for the shoe store.
Billy wore shoes out so often that his parents had an account at Mr. Ned’s and as Billy walked down Main Street onlookers were pointing at him and chuckling to each other. When Billy looked down at his shoes he saw that the bottom of his pants were almost completely white and each step generated another cumulus display spurting from the sides of each shoe.
By the time he arrived at his destination a crowd had formed to watch his volcanic shoe displays and Billy quickly slipped into the sanctity of the shoe store!
“Ah…Hi there…Billy…” Mr. Ned tried his best not to laugh at Billy’s white and black jeans as Billy puffed his way to a seat.
“A new pair of Weejuns?” Mr. Ned was confirming the obvious rather than actually asking a question.
“Yes Sir…Cordovan!”
Mr. Ned removed the right shoe first and a puff of talc rose into the air, the proprietor turning his head away from the white storm.
Then as Mr. Ned held the shoe as far from his nose as his arm would reach, using only the very tips of his fingers, a cascade of worn talc poured out and formed a pointed pile on the carpeted floor.
The Emporium owner repeated the same procedure with the left shoe. Looking at the two equal piles of talc that had formed on the floor in front of Billy Mr. Ned said…”I’ll get to those later.” Then holding both shoes as delicately as possible Mr. Ned carried them to the wastebasket and dropped them straight down and in!
After fitting Billy with a brand new pair of Cordovan Weejuns Mr. Ned said “OK Billy…I think that does it!”
“Thanks Sir …and could you add one more thing to the bill?”
“What’s that Billy?”
“A new bottle of talc…we’re out!”

Sparky was having a nice day until Santa arrived. Santa said “It’s new year’s eve… only 51 more weeks until Christmas.”
Sparky responded, “That’s plenty of time to get ready for Christmas 2025 isn’t it Santa?”
“Not if we’re going to make toys that take 52 weeks to build!”
Well, Santa was right about that but what efficient Elf would EVER take that long to do anything?
“Snoddington the elder elf would take even longer!” Santa responded!
Sparky knew that was true but Snoddington wasn’t due to retire until 2026.
Then Sparky had an idea. He whipped out his smartphone 3000 and called his new best friend that was the very best toy wrapper EVER!.
Yep…you guessed it Easter Bunny!
The Bunster showed up the very next morning with 5 million yards of Saranwrap and 50 million feet of red and green ribbon and 4 frozen jelly beans.
So no matter what you are doing this year or where you are doing it Santa, Sparky and the Easter Bunny will be wrapping presents for December 24, 2025 except for Easter morning when EB has the day off.
The National TV network is scheduling a game show this year at the North Pole to see who can wrap presents of various and sundry sizes and  weights and be declared “Wrapper of The World!”
Be sure to tune in!