"So where've you been all morning?" Slappy demanded loosely. "Your breakfast was getting cold."
"Sorry, hon," came an apologetic reply.
Andy emerged from the house to join Slappy on the back patio which connected to the kitchen where Slappy had spent the morning making breakfast. She was now sitting in a cushioned deck chair next to a small white table, looking very relaxed and at ease. She peered at the fox over the edge of a book she was reading, titled: "The Joy Of Explosives".
Andy bent down and kissed her softly before seating himself at the table. Before him was a plate full of food: eggs, toast, fried potatoes, all neatly arranged and prepared by someone who took great pride in her work. To the side was a bowl of honey dew melon pieces.
"Eat," came the squirrel's stunted command from behind the book.
"Yes, Ma'am," Andy smiled, and loaded a fork full of food.
After downing several mouthfuls of the scrumptious meal, the fox paused and stole a loving glance at the squirrel across from him. Slappy pretended not to notice, and hid her smile with her book.
"You'll make a vegetarian out of me yet," Andy commented slyly, enjoying his breakfast.
"Heh!" Slappy laughed. "And I'll win the award for 'Most Non-violent Cartoon Short', heh ha. But thanks anyway."
The fox laughed and munched on a piece of melon. "Well, thank you for putting up with me then."
Slappy lowered her book briefly to eye Andy. "If you can bear to love an old, cranky squirrel, I can put up with the diet of a carnivore, heh ha."
Andy smiled lovingly back at her before returning to his breakfast.
"Well?" Slappy spoke up after a few minutes. "I'm still waiting for an answer."
Andy looked up, caught off-guard. Then, remembering that he had never answered her question, he sighed.
"Oh," Andy said, clumsily clearing his throat. "I was, um... creating irony." He poked at the nut bread toast on his plate--one of Slappy's specialties. He suddenly had an overwhelming desire to change the subject. "So it is gone, then?" he asked.
Slappy nodded. It had taken nearly three months for the psychic and cosmic powers that she had inadvertently received from Andy when they bonded to fade and disappear. "I haven't been able to read your mind for over a week," she commented.
"And the powers?"
Slappy shrugged and pointed a finger at him. After a silent few seconds of nothing happening, she sighed and lowered it.
"You aren't sad about it, are you, Slappy?" he asked, taking her hand in his and holding it tenderly.
"Naw," Slappy smiled. "It wasn't mine to have anyhow. Nope," she smiled, matter-of-factly, "it's back where it belongs: in the fox I love. Heh ha."
Half way across the yard in a large oak tree, two chipmunks were quarreling noisily over an acorn. The squabbling soon ended however, as a third chipmunk, larger than the other two, appeared. She seized the nut and chattered angrily to the other two. Then all three scampered down the trunk of the tree. Andy watched the trio as they crossed the yard and disappeared into the woods beyond.
"Slappy," Andy began, sounding distant, "did you ever take the Toon Animal Heritage ritual?"
Slappy reached for her coffee and glanced oddly at the fox. "My mother did," she said after taking a sip. "I haven't."
"How did it turn out?"
Slappy replaced her coffee and went back to her reading. "She was able to climb through the trees about a hundred times better afterwards."
Andy made a contemplative sound. Slappy's eyes briefly regarded his expression over the edge of her book. She had noticed that her fox seemed to be rather preoccupied lately. He had been more reserved and contemplative than usual, as if dogged by something he didn't want to face, or something he had been hiding from. She also noticed that whatever it was that was bothering the fox, it seemed to be especially strong that morning.
She gave Andy another look, and saw that his gaze had returned to the yard and the woods beyond. Her eyes disappeared behind the book once again.
Skippy Squirrel eyed the dart board in front of him with vicious determination. His concentration was locked fully upon it as he carefully aimed his dart. He was about to make a perfect bulls-eye for the third time in a row--a new record--when his concentration was abruptly intruded upon by a voice coming from behind him.
"Hello, lad."
Skippy spun around quickly and nearly lost his balance. Standing directly behind him was Fluffy. The squirrel's jaw went slack, the dart in his paw fell noisily to the floor.
From inside the house came the sudden gleeful screams of a young squirrel, followed almost immediately by unchecked laugher. "He can talk! He can talk!" Out on the deck, in the bright daylight of a warm, summer morning, Slappy eyed the house, then scowled at Andy.
"What did you do now?"
"Me?" Andy asked innocently.