Storyteller - Colin & Anne Brookfield (ebook and pdf reader .txt) 📗

could hear the sound of predators moving about nearby. Suddenly, a large tiger with exactly the same amputation, burst out of the undergrowth and just sat it front of him roaring occasionally as though to warn off other creatures. It stayed for several hours until reinforcements were heard arriving, then slunk silently back into the undergrowth.”

“That’s incredible,” said one of his compatriots. “A good deed returned, one might say.”

“But that wasn’t the end of it,” said William. “Twenty five years later a similar thing happened to a wounded officer in the same forest region, and impossible though it may seem, the tiger had a missing front left leg which had obviously been fully removed by a skilled surgeon. Then thirty years on from that encounter, an artillery soldier had a similar experience in the same area, with a tiger matching every recorded detail of the original one.”

“Pull the other one,” chortled a fellow officer, “that’s a bit far fetched.”

“You think so?” said William. “Well, twelve months ago, before being seconded to this regiment, my Commanding Officer at the time, officially recorded something of an unusual nature concerning the regiment; The event took place whilst insurgents were being flushed out of a forest area. Lookouts had been placed on a nearby crag so that open areas might be surveyed, and it was from this look-out point that something unusual was seen.

“Several shots had rung out, and an officer fell from his horse at the edge of the forest. It then went quiet as the military pursuit moved on deeper into the trees. Binoculars revealed the officer to be a Captain, and he was moving, but so was a tiger who had obviously noticed the wounded man. Then, another larger tiger appeared, and saw the first one off. That larger tiger was missing its front left leg, which in itself seemed impossible for any tiger’s survival. What is more extraordinary, it just sat there for ages, as though guarding the officer until our men were heard returning. It then slunk off. The wounded officer later reported that, skilful surgery had obviously been used on that tiger at some time in the past with follow up care, or it would not have survived.”

“I think the whisky is overworking your imagination,” said the same disbelieving officer.

“I haven’t finished yet!” retorted William as he walked over to pour another drink. “The name of the officer in question – who incidentally had been shot in the right leg – was Captain William Roberts. Have you not noticed that I have a slight limp?”

Water Baby

Six year old Emma was hopelessly attracted to water, to the extent that it was a constant worry to her parents. Several times in the past, she had slipped passed them to her favourite paddling place at the nearby river and today, it had happened again. She had taken care to put the small float rings on her upper arms and was wearing a thin blouse to protect her skin from the hot sun. Everything would have been perfect had it not been for that awful incident.

Her melancholy had begun just over two years ago, after being returned home from a short stay with her aunt. Emma remembered how her mother had broken down in tears as she gave the bad news about their two family dogs, Mixer, a white Alsatian and Tyke, an Afghan hound.

“They had become too costly to keep,” she had said, “but fortunately a friend who owned a farm had adopted them.”

Emma never got over the wrench from her furry family and it had affected everything. Flowers seemed not so colourful anymore, laughter not infectious, and play had become lonely. Such were the thoughts and feelings that now occupied Emma’s mind as she wandered aimlessly along the river-bank shallows.

The only person to hear Emma’s cry as she slipped accidentally into deep water, was a workman on a distant roof-top, but he was too far away to help and with too many obstacles between him and the child. Nevertheless, he had a mobile phone and alerted the emergency services. Whilst the man frantically tried to keep sight of the stricken child, his attention was suddenly drawn to the appearance of a white Alsatian and an Afghan hound that were racing across the open fields in the child’s direction. Without the slightest falter, the dogs launched straight into the swirling currents and grasped the child from either side.

“She obviously knew the dogs well,” he later told the police, “because they all frolicked and rolled about on the grass with her as soon as they were out of the water.”

“That sounds a bit strange to me,” the policeman had said, “we arrived within seconds, and there were no dogs to be seen anywhere, and certainly nowhere they could hide.”

When all the fuss had died down later that day, Emma’s parents went to her room to talk with her, but before they could speak, Emma exploded with excitement.

“Oh Mum, I’m so pleased you’ve brought Mixer and Tyke home,” she gushed. “Please bring them in to see me.”

With great difficulty, the perplexed parents explained to a very tearful Emma, that both their dogs had been killed two years ago in a traffic accident, and that they had made up the adoption story to reduce Emma’s anguish.

“But you’re wrong!” cried Emma, “They saved my life today; there are teeth marks on the sleeves of my blouse where they pulled me out of the water. We rolled and cuddled in the grass TODAY. So, that means they are still here. Please Mum, bring them in.”

“Listen to me very carefully” said her mother, “Mixer and Tyke never left you and they never will, what happened at the river today proves it. Now I know what I am about to say will be very difficult for you to understand, but as you get older it will make more and more sense. I need to show you that your world is much more wonderful than you have ever imagined it to be. This is how things really are Emma. All creatures come from a special ‘Angel place’ where nothing can ever die. However, they must each spend one lifetime living on this world, like WE are doing, and to do this, we are all given a new suit to wear.”

“I don’t understand,” sobbed Emma.

“Perhaps I can explain it this way. Do you remember when we took you to a museum, and you saw the clown’s clothing on a stand with its plastic red nosed face? You were so confused that it wasn’t moving about and doing funny things. Then I told you that the man, who used to wear those clothes many years ago and do all those funny things, has gone back to his Angel place and left these behind, because he doesn’t need them anymore.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, Mixer and Tyke did the same thing all those years ago, but today, they were then given their old suits, just for a short time, so that they could rescue you and show that they are always with you.”

Et Tu, Bruté!

Jim, and Brutus the seal-point Siamese (originally named ‘Tiddles’), had formed the most perfect relationship that man and feline could ever have – but it didn’t start out that way.

Jim’s wife Mary had taken pity on the unwanted cat, which was considered to be the runt of a litter, but it soon became apparent that it was Jim who was more in need of pity.

The main point of contention with Brutus was his base baritone voice, which could occasionally rise several more octaves or – as Jim put it – 9.5 on the feline vocal Richter scale. On the plus side, Brutus was extremely affectionate, and had obviously been trained to be carried around on somebody’s shoulder or around their neck, a habit which Jim found useful in cold weather, although that business didn’t start well. It was two days after his arrival when the Siamese decided to adopt his preferred travelling mode on someone’s shoulder.

‘Tiddles’ proved to be an exemplary leaper, memorably so when he arrived quite unexpectedly, and with great aplomb (grappling hooks extended) on the back of Jim’s shoulder.

“Now I know how the Roman Emperor Caesar felt, when he was being stabbed by Brutus and the rest of the Senate,” he said to his wife afterwards. From that day onwards ‘Tiddles’ acquired his new name.

True to the quick-witted nature of Siamese, those surprise shoulder arrivals came with soft paws after that and this seemed to offer some hope that the vocals might (given time) also become less painful.

Several months had slipped by, and Brutus was getting restless; it was the rainy season and he hated getting wet. It rained mercilessly, until there were serious concerns about flooding, as it had in the past when the Missouri and Mississippi rivers had overflowed, flooding their St Louis area.

As usual, Mary was sent off to a safer place whilst Jim stayed to look after things in case the floods became too dangerous. He wasn’t too concerned as he was used to these occasional alerts, and that evening he soon fell sound asleep.

It seemed scarcely an hour later when something screamed loudly into his ear, and a cold wet paw touched his face. Jim sat bolt upright. His head banged hard on something above and the wooden bed wobbled about precariously.

“Good grief!” he shouted. “The river levees have breached,” and he rolled off the bed into the cold rising waters. There was only one way out of the pitch black entrapment. So he plunged beneath the waters, groping for the window so that it could be opened.

Returning for Brutus he took the feline by the scruff and they both plunged down through the submerged window and out into the open. When they finally broke surface it seemed they were no better off, for the darkness was as impenetrable as it had been beneath the surface, and the only sounds were of rushing waters. Brutus was feeling very put out with all that discomfort and had plenty to say as he paddled off, with Jim swimming closely behind the noisy protests.

Jim had heard that cats see well in the dark and have trustworthy instincts. Luckily, this turned out to be true but, it was many hours and countless hazards later before Jim’s feet finally touched solid ground.

After their rescue, it was discovered that Brutus had headed in the only direction by which they could possibly have survived.

The saving