Grandchildren are an important and exciting part of our life. We want to be there for them and be able to help them in any way we can.

However, something as simple as reading a story to them can be challenging. This becomes evident in . . .

Furry Tales: A Love Story

    It was the week before Christmas. Darkness draped the living room of my daughter’s house, illuminated by the lights on a small Christmas tree and a single lamp on the end table between the couch and the loveseat, where I sat reading the sports section of the Daily Gazette. My grandson, Jonathan, dressed in his SpongeBob PJs, came rumbling down the stairs yelling, “Good night, Grandpa. Good night!” Before I could reply, he chanted, “Grandpa, grandpa, read me a story, please.”

     “But it’s your bedtime Jonathan.”

     “Pleeeease. Just a short one.”

     My grandson’s soft, pleading eyes melted my heart. I couldn’t resist his request. “Well, Jonathan, what story would you like me to read? Maybe a Christmas story?”

     “Uh, no. But I’m thinking. Give me a minute.”

     “Okay, but just a minute. It’s getting late.” He became silent as his eyes perused the children’s books on the five-shelf, oak bookcase next to the leather loveseat. At six, I had given him a task that took some thought and he seemed to be focusing considerable energy on it. His small hands grabbed a large book off the third shelf. He turned toward me and smiled.   
     “This one, Grandpa.”

     “Okay. But can I ask you a question before we begin?”

     “Yes, I think so.”

     “You looked at all the books in the bookcase and you picked that one.” He glanced down at the book he held below his waist. “Why did you choose that book rather than one of the others?”

     He didn’t take but a second to answer. “Because it’s my favorite. It has dogs in it. And you know, I love dogs.”

     Well, he left me speechless—a direct, concise answer, which kept me from asking any more unnecessary questions.

     He crawled onto the loveseat dragging the book, “Furry Tales: A Love Story,” behind him. He yanked it up on his lap and slid it across onto mine. Then out of his mouth came a simple statement, “I’m ready.”

     I put my feet against the edge of coffee table and propped the book up against my bent legs. Jonathan snuggled up next to me and I began to read.

     “Once upon a time, in a little kingdom on a far away shore,

     There lived two furry, four-legged critters all did adore.

     They had a life almost royal, although they clearly were not.

     Living with a loving family, most everything they wanted they got.

             

     “They romped and played, their days filled with joy,

     One named Princess Sara, a perky young girl, the other Sir Thomas, a            
          spirited boy.

     Now Princess Sara cocked her head as most cockers do, she’d become a       
          damsel of great repute.

     On the down side, however, life at times left her clueless, she didn’t       
          appear too astute.”

     Jonathan tugged on my arm interrupting my concentration. “What do you want, Jonathan? Do you need to take a potty break?”

     He gave me a quizzical look. “Uh, no,” he replied.

     “Then what?”

     “What does astute mean?”

     “Oh, that’s easy. It means smart.”

     “Then why doesn’t the book say smart?”

     “That’s a good question. I guess the person who wrote the book wanted a word that rhymed with repute?” Now, I confused him even more.

     “Huh, what does repute mean?” he queried.

     “It means a person or, in this case, a dog named Princess Sara, is good and people and other dogs like her.”

     “He had a thoughtful look on his face. Then he gave me a wry smile and gushed, “Okay, I’m ready. Read more.”

     And so I did.

   

    “Sir Thomas, on the other hand, considered a spaniel of note, his vocalizing a 
          cut  above.

    He yelped and ‘sang’ to his heart’s content, as he tried to impress Princess Sara 
          and show her his love.”

     “He likes her, doesn’t he?” Jonathan sighed.

     “Why, yes,” I replied, making me wonder why, after his previous questions, I thought this book might be too hard for him.

     I guess I took too much time thinking about this, for he pulled my arm and moaned, “Grandpa, you still awake?”

     “Yes, Jonathan, I am.”

     “Then why aren’t you reading? Mommy’s not going to let me stay up all night.”

     “Okay. Lean back and I’ll continue.”

     “But in most ‘Furry Tales,’ things in life do not always happen in the predicted way.

     And so the unexpected befell the romance between Princess Sara and Sir Thomas   
          one fateful day.

     The sun shined bright on one side of the road, while clouds draped over the other.

     A contrast created, much like the one between Princess Sara and Sir Thomas, her brother.”

     “Wow! He’s like me,” Jonathan screamed.

     “How do you mean, like you?”

     “Well, I love Annie. And she’s my sister.”

     “I think you’ve got it.” His hand shot up and I gave him a “high five.” He laughed and I smiled. But, as I looked down the page, I wondered if I wanted to take him where the story was going. This seemed like a children’s book meant for adults. But I knew he’d never let me stop, so I continued.

    “The province’s wise men cringed at the thought of a brother and sister falling 
          in love, as this could mean trouble.

     But who, they asked should be called upon to burst the loving couple’s bubble?

     A kingdom in turmoil, yet the decision seemed clear, the process must be started.

     The two joyful creatures’ love affair appeared ill fated, as most agreed they   
          be parted.”

     This is where it got hairy for me. I thought I’d gotten through this section, but then Jonathan gave me a strange, penetrating look. I tried to turn the other way, but it didn’t work.

     “Grandpa, if a sister and brother love each other, isn’t it a good thing?”

     “Sure, it’s a very good thing. I’m glad you love Annie.”

     “Then, why are those people in the book saying it’s bad?”

     My God! I don’t want to teach sex education. It’s his parents who should be teaching him about the “birds and the bees,” not me, I thought to myself. Jonathan sat in silence awaiting my response. I started to squirm and stammered, “Uh, brothers and sisters are not supposed to get married and that’s why the people are not in favor of Sir Thomas and Princess Sara falling in love with each other.”

     He stared at me for what seemed an eternity and then muttered, “Okay.”

     All seemed right with the world. It looked like I’d dodged the bullet I thought would bring me down. So not allowing for any more conversation, I began reading again.

     “Under a cloak of darkness, two eerie masked intruders grabbed Princess Sara 
          from  her bed one cold, dreary night.

     She howled and yelped in a call for help, she appeared to be in a state of fright.

     Sir Thomas heard her screams of panic while on the side of the house on the     
          doggy ‘john.’”

     Jonathan burst out laughing and screamed, “He’s going poop.”

     “By Jove, you’ve got it,” I exclaimed.

     “He pooped on his potty, didn’t he?” He paused for a moment and . . . “But doggies don’t have potties.” He looked at me somewhat confused, and then stated, “Oh, well, it still was really funny.”

     “Yes, it was. May I continue?”

     “All right.”

     “Let’s see what happens next.”

     “Realizing misfortune had befallen his beloved, he shrieked at the top of his   
          lungs to sound the alarm.

             

     “Lo and behold, the piercing sound traveled throughout the kingdom far and wide.

     A brigade of dogs, both big and small, gathered by Sir Thomas’s side.

     It became obvious what had to be done—the princess, the love of  Sir Thomas’s       
          life, must be saved.

     Sniffing and snorting their way down the trail, Princess Sara’s freedom they 
          craved.”

     It didn’t hurt that the book had superb artwork. Jonathan’s eyes had been glued to the pictures from the beginning of the story. Also, they started to droop as his bedtime already had approached and passed.

     “Jonathan, you look sleepy. Let me put you to bed. We’ll finish the story tomorrow.”

     He looked at me with sad eyes. “Nooo, finish it now. There are only a few more pages.”

     “Okay, sit back.” I cleared my throat and continued.

     “With the urgency to act quite apparent, they hurried to abort the Princess’s certain
          fate.

     But then a revelation from the heavens above conveyed a message to them to wait.

     For as it had occurred in many ‘Furry Tales’ before, a mistake, a major error had   
          been discovered.

     The two doggie mates, paired under a single roof, had not been brother and sister
          after all, this critical fact uncovered.”

     Half asleep, Jonathan muttered, “They can get married now. Can’t they?”

     “Yes, they can,” I sighed.

     His eyes closed and his head drooped. I kissed him on the forehead and whispered the last lines in the book to myself.

             

     “The news traveled fast throughout the tiny country, so all knew what had to be,

     Princess Sara and Sir Thomas living together again, forever and ever, happily.”

     Lifting Jonathan up, I made my way upstairs to his bedroom. I placed him under the covers and started to tiptoe out of the room. But before I could exit, he murmured, “Why can’t sisters and brothers get married?”

     “Good night, Jonathan, we’ll talk in the morning.” I left his room and went back downstairs hoping the question would be lost to sweet dreams during the night.

Copyright © 2012 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.