Posted May 1, 2021 / F. Falmer Browne

"A'course, I'm sure he'd be happy ta meet you, too," Addy declared, "I don't doubt as he'll make himself ta home, so it'd be best not ta let him in...he'll flop on yer settee an' never raise another paw nor pursue another critter again!"

In Falmer Browne’s experience, Tom cats sometimes ‘made themselves at home’ in a rather unpleasant way, a rather malodorous one, that would require all of Jemima’s cleaning skills to remove. And Buster sounded like the sort of strong character who always liked to make his mark in life, and on those he came into contact with.

She laughed and shook her head. "'Course, given th' opportunity, I reckon I'd do th' same....well, not th' critter chasin' part...don't do that now, an' don't plan on takin' it up any time soon! At any rate, I'm sure he'll come moonin' around once he comes ta know th' house is his new home."

“You could try the old wives tale about putting butter on a cat’s paws: they say that one you do that, and he licks it off, he knows innately where his new home is.”

"We can see if he's there now!"

“Oh, no need to on my account, I….” oh, too late, she was off like a greyhound out of its pen!

Running to the back door, she stepped onto the porch. "BUUUSSSSSTTTEERRRR! HERE KITTY!"

And a moment later, the subject of conversation arrived over the fence, tail held high.

Yes, Falmer Browne recognised the swagger of an alpha male as soon as the handsome ginger and white tom appeared, bounding over to his willing she-slave. He had felt, he had to own, a pang of jealousy when the beautiful Miss Chappel had been talking about her fiancé, the lucky Mr Ryker, but he needn’t have bothered: this one eyed brute was clearly the true master of Miss Adeline Chappel’s heart.

Buster nuzzled up to Addy and with his remaining eye gave Browne a look of pure, cocky contempt, as if to say ‘All right, piss off old man, DADDY’s here now’ F. Falmer Browne, once the terror of the New York company board rooms, had to draw on all his reserves of courage to stand-up straight and face down this formidable feline, man to man.

Posted May 3, 2021 / F. Falmer Brown

"See there, he likes ya!"

“Yes, er, very friendly!” grimaced Falmer Browne as Buster rubbed his body against him as a new territorial acquisition rather than a new friend.

But just at that instant, Montgomery decided that it was getting a little too warm inside Weedy's shirt, and the aroma of 'boy' was getting to be stifling, so the little gopher critter poked its head out, took one look at the cat and took off, scrambling over Weedy's head, flopping to the wooden porch, and the chase was on!

Pocket gopher, one-eyed cat, sandy-haired boy and laughing woman charged across the yard!

Montgomery had never faced a nemesis possessing the speed and grace of the master hunter who bounded after him as he shot across the garden; the sly but slow moving Lamia had been his only foe. His heart rate beat rapidly, even for him, as he darted away. He had the advantage of speed but lacked a knowledge of the geography of the area outside the greenhouse, and that told rapidly. He was outpacing the one-eyed ginger cat when he came face to face with an unscalable brick wall and had to bounce off it and commit to a 180 that brought him back past the pursuing Buster. Had fate favoured him, and sent him to the Tom’s blind side, he might have survived; but alas things proved otherwise, and in a trice the little furry animal felt the unusual sensation of sharp claws catching his flank and then fangs sinking into his throat.

Buster would no doubt have enjoyed greatly letting the little gopher escape, and then catching him again a few times, but he had experienced the strange caprices of human beings before when he had presented them with little trophies, so he picked Montgomery’s still living, panting, blinking body up in his maw, and trotted away to a patch over a fence that he knew that was out of reach to the human creatures who were even now approaching.

Posted May 6, 2021 / F. Falmer Browne

"Buster! Drop that!" Addy was after the cat, hoping to intervene before it was too late, while Weedy just stood on the porch, his lower lip trembling as he looked guiltily up at Browne.

"I'm sorry," the boy muttered, on the verge of tears, "I didn't mean..." He looked dolefully toward the fence, then belatedly chased after Addy and Buster and Montgomery...

“There, there” said the sentimental Browne putting a comforting hand on Weedy’s shoulder; his naturally kindly disposition augmented by the whiskey “The genus Geomyidae have but a short time to live, and Montgomery has had a good long life for one of his kind. If nothing else, we can take comfort that, after many months in captivity, he died a free gopher!” he said, trying to placate the boy's feelings of guilt.

By that time, Addy had scrambled over the fence and was confronting the cat. "Drop it!" she chided, not yet moving in, to give Buster a chance to comply.

The cat had released the strange critter, but was keeping it protectively between his front paws as he gazed challengingly at his mistress with his one eye. His prize was new to him, something special to explore, and he wasn't done playing yet!

As his heart beat faster and faster, and the crimson lifeblood flowed from his wounds, Montgomery looked up, past the chin of the savage sabretooth who held him fast in the primeval fate of his kind, past the form of the human, silhouetted black against the clear blue Montana sky, and into those very clouds themselves and suddenly a comforting light seemed to suddenly envelop him. As his little heart came to a sudden stop, he found himself once more amongst friends and littermates and even, yeah, the father he had never known and the mother at whose teat he had suckled along with his brothers and sisters. And they were there in some heavenly burrow, in a land where busters did not roam in search of prey and where crops grew high and deep all year round ready for the little winged gopher angels to ruin them.

Posted May 8, 2021 / F. Falmer Browne

As Weedy walked forward to see the fate of the cute little creature who had been temporarily entrusted to his care, Browne went with him, keeping a comforting hand on his shoulder. Little did he know that the poor lad had already seen much worse tragedy than this in his young life.

Sighing, Addy picked up the miniature gopher, cradling it in her hand as Weedy scaled the fence, looking eagerly from the other side.

"Sorry, Weedy." Addy shrugged, looking past the boy to Browne...this would tell what sort of neighbors they would be, but the man didn't look at all angry.

Browne, indeed, managed a slightly sad but encouraging smile to the radiant young woman. “Nature’s way, Miss Chappel, nature’s way.” He intoned.

"I didn't mean for that to happen," the boy repeated, even though the Professor had assured him that the little critter was old and likely to die soon anyway. "Can we bury him?"

“Er, yes, I dare say!” agreed Browne, hoping it would help ameliorate any guilty feelings the young chap might have about the tragic affair, although he knew that Buster would no doubt use any freshly turned earth as a toilet at the earliest possible convenience, thus adding insult to injury.

"I reckon..." Addy looked to Browne again and shrugged. "Maybe under a tree, an' you can say some words over him?" Yes, it was absurd, but it would make Weedy feel better, and besides, it was absurd!

Just then, the Angel of Death herself appeared on the scene and came over from inside the house. “Oh Jemima, I’m afraid there has been a fatality, er, Montgomery escaped and the ginger gentleman from next door that we have seen, er, ‘Buster’ … I’m afraid.”

Jemima just uttered a flat “I’ll get the spade” and clomped off, soon returning with a shovel and a large cigar box.

Falmer Browne encouraged Weedy forward.

“Let us collect up the remains of the departed.” He said in a comforting voice.

Jemima approached Weedy and shoved the cigar box in his hand, it was a big one with ample room for poor Montgomery’s corpse.

“I’ll get diggin’.” She announced and looked at Addy “Where’d you want him plantin’?” she asked.