CHAPTER 25: The Arrow Loosed


Andy held Anthony on his lap as the two sat in their front yard on a cloudy, misty, late afternoon. The air was curiously thick with moisture from an impending afternoon thunderstorm--unusual weather for California, especially when the forecast had called for sun all day. Oddly, the fox and squirrel didn't seem to mind. They sat quietly, taking in the dreary afternoon, a curious expression of satisfaction on Andy's face.
The dampness of the air seemed to amplify the hues and colors of everything around them. The large shade trees in the yard formed an eerie maze of dark green, giving way here and there to the gray-green sky. The red brick of the wall along the edge of the yard contrasted sharply with the green, and gave the scene an odd feeling of time suspended, put to rest by the sultry air hanging heavy on all that it touched. The light mist compounded this feeling, shrouding everything in a protective haze, and making anything more than a few feet away seem distant and vague. Only the occasional passing car down the street served to remind the two toons that there was still a world of buzzing life around them.
"I'll miss this type of weather," Andy mused quietly. "It had grown my favorite on Earth."
Anthony turned to his father. "What do you mean 'miss', dad?"
His son was still young, but was already as tall as Slappy had been. His large green eyes looked up into his father's, his voice carrying the purity of youth.
Andy looked back at Anthony and took his paw. "Today is a very special day, Anthony. It's a day of reflection, and a day of completion--of loss, and gain."
Anthony scowled at his father. "Huh?"
Andy smiled back. "Someone who has been wandering and searching all his life is about to finally find his way back home."
Andy fell silent, and closed his eyes as rumblings of thunder sounded above them. He remained quiet and still for several moments seeming to sense some impending event, his paw still gently holding Anthony's. The red squirrel watched his face, sensing a deep concentration and calmness in it.
Anthony turned and gazed upwards. The world seeming to fade and blink out around him, and the air filled with defining silence. In the silence, for one brief moment, Anthony thought he could hear his father's words, barely audible, speaking in some strange language he had never heard. Then, without warning, a dazzlingly bright lightning bolt shot down from the gray clouds and struck Andy with a loud *CRACK*. A wave of energy washed over him, causing his body to glow vibrantly for several seconds as the air around him crackled with electricity. Anthony sat, unafraid, on his lap amid the crackling energy, his eyes wide as he witnessed the spectacle. Moments later, sound returned to Anthony's world, and his father opened his eyes.
"Dad?"
Andy gave an inward, satisfied smile to himself. "Yes, Tony?"
"What was that?"
"Just your dad taking care of some old business," he answered back.
A loud crack of thunder southeast of them boomed and echoed through the clouds. Following it came Anthony's soft voice. "Dad, why don't we age?"
Andy patted his son's head softly. "We do--just slower than others." Though chronologically around thirty years old, and graduating from Acme Looniversity nearly a decade earlier, Anthony still looked and acted little more than thirteen or fourteen, and Andy had often noted how he reminded him of Skippy when he was young. "One day you'll grow up to be a fine squirrel," Andy added.
"But I'm not a squirrel," Anthony objected. "I got sharp teeth and a fox-like tail."
"You're more squirrel than fox, Tony. Nothing at all wrong with a little of both. Your mother and I are glad you turned out just the way you are. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."
Anthony seemed to contemplate his father's answer for a short time, then he spoke up again. "Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Do you miss mom?"
Andy stroked his son's head. "I sure do, Tony."
"Why did she have to go?" Anthony asked longingly.
A trace of a frown etched its way onto Andy's face. "Because her time was done. She lived a long time, Tony--a long, happy life. She had a lot of natural toon in her, and sometimes laughter just isn't enough. It was time for her to rest."
"But couldn't you have saved her? You and your magic--why didn't you save her?" Anthony said, starting to lash out accusingly.
Andy shook his head. "I can cure any disease, Anthony," Andy said solemnly. "I can fix many things, but the gift of life is one ability I do not have."
Anthony's voice took on an accusing tone. "Well, why didn't you just go back in time when she was still alive and just stay there?"
"Son..." Andy began, but Anthony cut him off.
"You could take me and we could live with her again!" Anthony gripped his father's white chest fur in a clenched fist. "We could see her again!" he insisted, his rage growing, driven by grief.
Andy gently placed his paw on top of Anthony's fist and held it gently. "No, son," he said, looking sadly across to Anthony. "It would only make things worse. It would confuse the Slappy from that time. It would confuse you and I. It... it doesn't work."
Anthony refused to give up his fight. "But you don't know! You're afraid to try! You're just so smug and stuffy--you just don't want to admit you don't know!"
A tear formed in the corner of Andy's eye at his son's words. He could sense the rage and anger in his son's mind, and recognized them as his own. Anthony had indeed inherited something else from Andy aside from his sharp teeth and tail--he had inherited his strong emotions and deep personal feelings.
"I do know," said Andy, looking down. "I've... tried it. After Fluffy left, I... That rabbit was my best friend. I... never lost anyone close to me before. When he left..." Anthony watched as the tear rolled down the fox's face, and his eyes filled with a terrible sorrow. The fox's face clenched into a painful grimace as unbearable past mistakes whirled about his thoughts. He shook his head and turned away to clear his mind. "The past is something to hold close to your heart and cherish, not something to go back to and try to lose yourself in."
Andy felt Anthony's paw release him, the young squirrel's mind swimming with confusion and lingering anger. "Then why don't you just bring her from the past to here?" Anthony pleaded harshly.
"And rob her of memories yet to be?" asked Andy, taking Anthony's chin and lifting his head up to face his own. "Slappy's life is her own to live, not yours or mine to take and change. She lived many happy years with us. Let her keep them."
Anthony fell silent and turned away. The anger and hatred he had experienced moments before had suddenly vanished, leaving him with confusion and a feeling of regret. He had known full well the answers to his questions, and wondered now what had driven him to such blind anger to start accusing his father with them.
"I'm... I'm sorry, dad," he said softly. Momentarily he felt Andy lay a paw on his shoulder.
"It's okay, Tony. Even we geniuses can lose control once in a while." Disguised behind the body of a youth, his son had the same feeling that his aged father did.
Anthony turned and hugged Andy, resting his head on his father's shoulder while Andy hugged him back. "Do you think about her?" he spoke up after a silence.
Andy closed his eyes and nodded. "All the time."
The young squirrel released his father. A timid smile had returned to his face. "Do you ever think about your parents?" he asked.
Andy frowned. "I don't remember them, kiddo. I'd like to think I loved them, but I have no memories of them."
"Do you think they abandoned you?" Asked Anthony.
"I don't know," Andy shrugged. "They might have. My first memories are of being all alone, but either way, I do not hold anything against them. Perhaps they needed to leave. Perhaps they were saving me from something. I really don't know. Maybe they are still around somewhere. Maybe they aren't. Again, I don't know. Maybe one day I'll find out."
Anthony was silent for a time, some cold spark of realization panging his mind. "You won't ever leave like mom did, will you, Dad?" Anthony asked, a tear welling up in one eye.
Andy remained silent. He knew the answer, and it bore into him like a drill, but there was nothing he knew that could prevent it: he would never leave. But his son was a natural toon animal. Anthony would age, grow old, and eventually leave Andy behind as Slappy had.
Andy wiped his son's eye with his paw and smiled. "Come on, then," he said, trying to smile cheerily and lighten the mood. "Let's go for a ride and clear our minds. I'll take you anywhere you want to go."
Anthony gave a final sniff, then looked back up at Andy. "Anywhere?" he asked, a bit of happiness returning to his face. "On you?"
"Sure," Andy said. "Anywhere. Right now. Let's go."
Anthony beamed from ear to ear. After giving his father a tight hug, he jumped down from Andy's lap and dashed into the house. Andy stood up and stretched, silently taking in the world around him as the last page of an old chapter in his life turned, to reveal the first page of the next one to come.

"Okay!" came Anthony's voice a few minutes later, startling the fox out of his thoughts. Andy looked down gave a small snicker at the comical figure before him. Anthony stood proudly, dressed in a green vest with a bright yellow bandana tied around his neck, and a giant ten-gallon cowboy hat atop his small head. Slung over one shoulder was a small brown backpack he often carried with him. He looked up at his father eagerly for a reaction.
Andy smiled back. "Nice hat," he said, gesturing to the giant piece of headwear. Anthony simply gave a laugh and quickly exchanged it for a smart little western-style hat with a red feather in the brim. His outfit made the young squirrel look like a dapper little refugee from a John Wayne movie, but despite any impression of his costume, Anthony was a skilled rider, thanks in large part to time he had spent with Fluffy.
"Not bad," Andy commented as Anthony stood proudly before him. "Could use one more thing though."
Anthony looked confused. "What?" he asked, checking himself over.
Andy's paw disappeared into his fur. It came out holding a small box. He opened the lid, revealing pair of simple brass spurs. They had been cleaned and polished and shined like new. He gazed at them for a moment, then looked down at Anthony.
"These were your mothers," he explained, holding the box out to Anthony. "They are yours now--if you want them."
Anthony fell silent, taken by surprise of the memento. He had very few actual mementos from his mother. Her Dodge Viper had been left to Andy, and Andy alone, as her will stated, "he's the only toon who could ever look good in it besides me, heh ha." Her explosives also were willed to him alone. Now, Anthony had just been presented with something from his mom, for him alone. He looked up at Andy with quivering lip and smiled.
"Mom loved you a lot, kiddo," Andy said warmly. "She wanted you to have something special to remember her by." The fox took the spurs, knelt down and fitted them to his son's heels. "Unfortunately," he added, "these are all that she could find." Andy heard Anthony snickering and pretended not to notice. The spurs fit Anthony perfectly.
"Thanks, Dad," Anthony whispered, his words carrying a collection of meanings and feelings only he and Andy understood. Andy hugged him lovingly and patted his shoulder before standing up and regarding the duded up squirrel.
"There," said Andy, taking a step back. "Now you look like a proper... em... a proper... ah, well whatever it is, you look like a proper one."
As he spoke, Anthony began to hear the sound of a song beginning to play from somewhere--a simple guitar rift set to a jumpy pop beat that filled the air all around them, yet did not seem to have a definite source. Anthony looked around in confusion. "Where's that music coming from? Sounds like someone's got their car radio turned way up."
"Nope," said Andy, glancing off somewhere. "Just a trick I leaned from an old friend. It's 'A Change' by Sheryl Crow. I know it's an oldie, but, em... someone very special has recommended it."
Anthony walked about and admired his new spurs while Andy spin-changed into his old familiar saddle and bridle outfit with a dramatic flourish and flashy light show effect. "I still got it," he remarked, tugging the saddle's purple strap and adjusting the green blanket underneath with a satisfied smirk.
"Show-off!" Anthony said haughtily, giving his father a raspberry. Andy returned it in kind and planted himself on all fours.
"So, where are we going, then?" he asked, bobbing gently in place to the music.
Anthony jumped expertly up on his back. "Seattle," he called out dramatically, taking up the reins.
"Sea... what?" Andy scowled back at the squirrel.
"Seattle," Anthony repeated innocently.
"Why Seattle?"
"Because it's funny," Anthony remarked, gently nudging his father with his family heirlooms.
Andy shrugged and shook his head. "Seattle," he agreed, lazily walking out onto the sidewalk. In time with the music, Anthony raised his heels and gave his fox mount a swift kick with his spurs. Andy leapt up and shot forward into a fast trot. He turned and looked indignantly back at his passenger. "Would you mind watching it with those?"
Anthony merely grinned toothily and waved back. Andy gave him a smirk and snorted with mock irritation before turning forward again, padding along to the rhythm of the song's steady, pounding beat with his son riding proudly on his back. As they departed, the first rays of the late afternoon sun began to pierce through the thin western rim of the heavy storm clouds above, bathing everything it touched in a misty warm, golden glow. The two disappeared down the street, neither feeling the rain around them that was beginning to fall--quiet, warm, and peaceful as a lazy dream.

Andy let his mind relax as he let Anthony do the steering. His thoughts drifted to memories of Slappy: the joy and troubles they had gone through, the nephew they had raised, and the spark of a new life that they had created. She had touched many lives, and had given Andy the greatest gifts of all: a son, and a family. And, with those gifts at last came the gratifying sense of having a place and purpose in the world. But now she was gone, and despite his son's presence Andy couldn't help but feeling somehow incomplete once again.
For the next several days father and son made their way north as they toured the west coast of America. Anthony, in charge of direction, led them through open fields and tall forests, sometimes following the highways, and now and then taking newly invented short-cuts which seemed to Andy to be nothing more than excuses for the two to get lost.
During the day they would talk in depth about whatever Anthony wanted to know about, and stopping at any number of tourist traps along the way. At night they would either camp out on the open land, or travel on to the next city where Anthony soon got into the habit of riding Andy inside the fanciest hotel he could find and right up to the reservation counter where he would kindly ask for a room, the hotel staff looking on and nodding their greetings to the young jockey.
After Seattle the two headed east, caught up in the sensation of their newly found wanderlust. They traveled to Walla-Walla, through Montana and the Midwest states, their cares forgotten, the call of travel beckoning them on.
"The world's biggest mallet," Andy said, standing in front of a 30-foot tall cartoon mallet and paging through a brochure.
"Think it could squash Daffy Duck's ego?" asked Anthony, jokingly. The two exchanged dry glances, then both shook their heads.
Through landscapes of golden wheat fields and sprawling cityscapes, rolling green hills and woods, across snow and sand, and through the heart of cities of concrete and steel, the two continued on, Anthony's small backpack filling with souvenirs and memorabilia from their stops. With a new spring in his step, thanks in part to his new and improved lower quarters, Andy trotted melodically through it all, taking in the sights and sounds of the great and wonderful world around him that he had somehow missed until now, seeing it all anew through his son's wondering eyes. And, through it all, Anthony sat perched atop his back, fumbling with road maps and tour guides, picking their course and getting to see his father in a new light. They had become more than father and son; they were two travelers, two adventurers, two wandering friends, together exploring the world around them.
On cool nights, they would camp outside, lighting a fire and sitting close to each other. Anthony was also in charge of provisions, and would always have a meal ready for them. Their red fur would glow brightly as they ate and talked about happy times of past days, and of times yet to come. They would stare up into the night, each wondering what the future had in store for him. Eventually they would fall asleep, snuggled up to each other as the fire continued to glow.
Under stormy and sunny skies, the bright dot of red and white fur moved east as the fox and squirrel journeyed on, their unhappiness left behind like so many miles of road.
Reaching Pittsburgh and turning south to Cucamonga, the two stopped to dine at Peckin's, a typical family restaurant run by a fox Andy knew from the Hollywood scene decades before. Andy watched as Anthony devoured a small steak while he himself dined on an order of breaded chicken strips. Andy watched his son finish his meal and chuckled softly. "I'll never get over it--a carnivorous squirrel."
Anthony wiped his mouth daintily with his napkin, then pointed to a half-eaten chicken strip on his father's plate. "You gonna eat that, dad?"
Hitting the road again, Andy suggested that perhaps they had gone far enough, and that they should be getting on back. The response to his suggestion came in the form of a rather noticeable kick in his sides and a jerk of his reins. Andy promptly reared up, eyeing his son and deciding that Anthony was having entirely too much fun. The young squirrel waved his hat and called out, "Homeward bound!"
The pair returned through Nashville and then Dallas where they stopped to pose with a statue of a giant jack rabbit. They went on to Denver, had some pizza in Tombstone, and spent two nights in Vegas, where Anthony won five hundred dollars at craps (age restriction for gambling is a bit different for toons), and Andy lost two grand to a shifty-eyed weasel with a lisp.
In all, it was nearly a month before the two toons finally returned home, pausing shortly atop a hill and gazing at the L.A. skyline in the near distance. Tired and worn out from their journey, but also happy and refreshed, they trotted the final leg in silence, their love and friendship reinforced from their trip together. A new chapter in Andy's life had indeed begun, and many more were to follow.