We continue our parade of The Old Ones. Bill and The Girls continue their daily visits. They usually wake us about 7-7:30AM if we aren’t awake by then, clucking and clacking in the backyard, promenading to and fro, letting us know there’s no seed available.
They’ve taught us well.
But this post is about my dinner with Opie (extra points to anyone who knows the homage) and more correctly, a gathering of The Old Ones for dinner.
First up, Opie (if you know him well, he’ll let you call him “Oaps”. I don’t recommend it without his permission, though. Remember Ophelia‘s advice) and Sheldon.
Opie and Sheldon enjoyed a titillating repast of peanuts and dog food (Ol’Roy, 50# bags at WalMart. Stay away from the bacon flavor. There is nothing worse than standing downwind from raccoon feasting on bacon flavored anything).
Opie is the local Opossum Lord and is quite old by Opossum standards (hence the white patch on his back). You’ll notice he’s adept at ignoring me unless he wants something.
For that matter, Sheldon barely pays me notice unless the peanuts are running low.
Then, at one point, Sheldon bid Oaps adieu and headed off I know not where, except his place at the table was taken over by Vasch (who will let you call him “Vaschte” if he likes you).
Oaps and Vasch discussed much and deeply. They plotted against Horace, I’m told, and wondered whom Bill would court next. They discussed the movements of the stars and the propensity of the Two-Legs (that’s us) to interrupt them as they hurried about their business. They agreed that The Standing Ones (Trees) were waking from their winter slumbers, shaking the snow from their branches as the days lengthened and warmed, sniffing the air for free standing moisture through their limbs, waiting for their leaves to bud (except for the Pines and their kin who stay ever green (hence their name), and do not lose their foliage because, long ago, they sheltered a young robin from heavy snows. That robin, they did not know, was Nature herself in disguise, testing to see which of her children would be generous when they had nothing to gain, a lesson for us all, that). They dismissed the coyotes as juvenile (even the coyote elders) and more interested in play then perfecting themselves.
I offered that perhaps the coyote were perfecting play.
Vasch had had enough of my Two-Legged ignorance at that and left to find Sheldon, perhaps to ask why the raccoons tolerate me so much.
You’d think I’d learn my lesson. All the years I’ve been with them…
And then it was my time to depart, Opie (no longer “Oaps”, familiarity dropped as his last guest approached) had another guest to entertain, to place in a seat of honor at his table, the Lady Opette.
I had but a moment to reset their table and then was told by Hisself, scoot scoot scoot, which I did (never interfere with Lords and Ladies when they’re set).
Opette, Gracious Lady that she is, demurred when I congratulated her and her man, the Lord Opie. Look closely, look carefully (but don’t stare, it’s rude). That bulge at Opette’s belly are their pups in her pouch.
Eat well, Old Ones. The stars and midnight skies celebrate you.