Hooman has lots of fairly crap stories to tell us when we are in the woods. I don’t know if they are true, lies, or halfway between.
One of the first he ever told me was one about the ‘Beast of Bodmin Moor‘. It was about a furocious black cat that roamed the wilds of Cornwall. A quick scan of google when I got back quickly revealed quite plainly that it was not in fact in Cornwall, but my own back yard, and that I was in fact this fabled monster. This made complete sense to me, and all fell in quite nicely with my own furocious reputation in these parts.
Another of hooman’s tall tales is that of ‘Will-O’-The-Wisp‘ who lives in the swampy bit that sometimes comes after a long period of rain, or winter melt. Hooman says that this fiend will try to get The Wally and myself to leave the dry paths, and to wander into the puddles, and sludge. Whilst The Wally is a massive dope who enjoys getting himself neck deep in mud and water, I have far higher standards, and will simply tell the Wisp to take a running jump. Mind you, we have yet to see it, so who knows… Maybe it has ham, or something? What else could possibly convince a cat to divert from it’s mission?
One of The Wally’s most dreaded fables that hooman tells him is the one about the Werehooman… Every full moon, dogs all over the world start to howl at the bright moon in the sky, and begin to transform, from their delightful canine features, into a hideous biped figure, who then prowls the nighttime hunting out morsels like ice cream, beer, and honey roasted peanuts. This terrifying visage is only stopped if you can run faster then 88mph, and you can leap forward few hours, missing the vital midnight hour where the transformation begins.
It obviously works, as The Wally has never turned into a werehooman.
The woods are full to the brim with weird, and mystifying creatures. Normally hooman’s are terrible as spotting other beasties, large and small, in the woods… All except for the Ents. Hooman’s can spot them a mile away, so mine says. You have to be careful, because despite their calm, and serene exterior, a kitty claw in the wrong place can make turn them into raging beasts with no way to sate them except by possibly some fertiliser, (which we never take with us).
Hooman has warned me several times about choosing my trees to claw carefully.
As you undoubtedly know by now, my back field, the river, and woods are teeming with crocodiles, (although I have yet to catch one), but there is one very special crocodile. It has, hooman tells me, a certain noise. A ticking. The story of how it got this noise is long, but involves pirates, a man with a hooked arm, and a pan of some sort. I have keen hearing, but have yet to hear this crocodile on my own. Hooman holds his watch-wrist to my ear to help me hear better, and there it is! I can hear it, although I can never spot it, despite it sounding very close…
There is a well worn trail running through the woods. This is the trail, hooman tells me, that Little Red Riding Hood uses… The first thing that struck me what a silly name that is. The second is “what on earth is a little girl with no obvious camouflage skills doing wandering the woods when there are wolves present?” It seems hooman’s are always going to be next to useless in the wilderness. Hooman told me that I had nothing to fear from the Big Bad Wolf, as I wasn’t wearing red. I told hooman I have nothing to fear as I can run faster then him anyway.
There are often reports of moths, butterflies, and small rodents going missing in the woods nearby. There is talk of a serial killer, or a psychopath who may have escaped from a local cattery. I couldn’t possibly comment…
Hooman said a policeman came round once to question me, but I was out at the time.
Couldn’t possibly say where.
Sometimes hooman will leave a trail of breadcrumbs when we go through the woods. He explained that he uses it so he can find his way back, as there is a witch who lives in the woods who likes to eat wanderers. She has a very nice gingerbread house which attracts people as they like to eat it.
Eat? A gingerbread house? A ham house I could understand, but gingerbread? No wonder it is only ever humans who fall into this crappiest of traps.
I told hooman I was the most furocious beastie in the woods, and he laughed. He said that I was only 3rd on the list of furocious critters. 2nd on the list was something called ‘The Gruffalo‘, and topping the list was a mouse that the Grufflalo follows round. “A Gruffalo?”, I laughed back… Silly old hooman, doesn’t he know? There’s no such thing as a Gruffalo!
Hooman is a big fan of Sherlock Holmes. One of his favourite stories that is not a story but is honest to goodness real, and we’d all better watch out, is one called ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles‘. In this story there is a furocious dog-hound that terrorises the residents of a sleepy village.
A furocious dog-hound then came out of the woods at us, his eyes staring at us, looking for blood…
Well, I say blood. A dog biscuit, or a nice bit of sausage would have probably been ample to keep him happy.
The big dope. More like the Hound of the Baskin-Robbins.
Hooman often tells us these stories. I think most of the time it is to scare us into coming home quickly and quietly. Other times I think it is simply to scare us! Still, when he does so I do use this time to hitch a ride. Hooman has his uses, even if it isn’t story-telling.
Still, back to work as the beast of Bodmin…