Two bluebirds sipped water from a bird bath. On grass, orange-breast robins tugged at stretching, gooey earthworms. The president nodded. “Golpher, I’ve been thinking. You’re exactly right. If you carry a club, people talk. They relate. A club eases people into conversation.” “Yes, sir.” I inhaled as new morning sun’s rays covered my furry body. The president paused and gazed directly to my brown eyes. “Before we have morning tea, Golpher, and as we’re forty-five minu

Jinx and I were visiting the White House. We were strolling through flower gardens with the president and his wife. I’d been invited to play an afternoon round with the president. But, I carried my sand wedge as we walked. “Golpher, I see you have your club with you.” “Woof. Yes sir,” I followed. Bees buzzed in green and white clover, yellow honeysuckle, and in pink petunias. It was spring. Flowers in bloom, everything was humming. “You feel comfortable with a club?” t

Suzy couldn’t stop talking about new friends she’d met. “Dr. Pattymore was so funny,” Suzy said to Eddie. “About ready to pop buttons on his shirt, he pulled his thin beard and blabbed big words, Eddie. He said, “Regarding skin color, I speculate it may be the result of cyanoglobin rather than hemoglobin circulating in the bloodstream.” “Pugh.” Eddie spat like he’d spit sunflower seeds watching a baseball game. “Yep. That’s what Dr. Pattymore told Grandfather, who asked

Santa’s big chest was covered in a heavy red suit. Wearing a wide black belt and high black snow boots he stroked his frosty white beard. At night, on the grounds of Castle Njorn, together, they gazed to the rich, green forest. Helper elves listened as Santa went on. “I’m going to present you with a gift. A precious marvel, born from an ancient cousin, protect it carefully as you would your villagers, your castle.” Santa spun. Pointing to his spacious, shiny red sleigh

Here, on rock walls and ceilings, bioluminescence provides the faintest light. Eyes adjust. Then, still separated from Tee and Ainia, after the first day, Kieusiv brightened Iodea’s spirits. “Do you fish?” he asked. “Yes,” she said and nodded. “Oh. Rather, I mean, as well, do you like to eat fish?” “Yes,” she replied. “Good. I believe I can catch our dinner, Iode’a.” Beaming, he winked and patted her shoulder. Her eyes opened wide; and she smiled at the thought. “I have a

“Plop!” My red and white, one-inch-diameter bobber splashed to water. “Perfect.” I tossed eyes to brown, fuzzy cattails, to zippy, blue and red dragonflies, and then held twelve-pound test line between two fingers. “Fish are in here. These babies will bite,” I said carefully. “They will.” Close by, Wilma my sleek, green and black-spotted tree frog friend, winked. “Too, the bigger bass will bite me and cousins if we’re not careful, Golpher. Spring has sprung.” I’d not se