Typewriter Emergencies December 2017

een on Deep Sky Anchor, she could have jumped in the central river and
swum to her destination. So much easier. So much more relaxing. Instead,
her paws were sore by the time they got to the nearest park.
The autumn sun gleamed on the silver branches of the artificial climbing
trees and other play structures. As soon as Olea unstrapped Shaun from her
back, he scampered across the grass and dried leaves to the tallest slide in
the playground.
Maybe if he got his energy out, things would be better. Although, he
wasn’t the one who’d started throwing tantrums, and somehow, Olea still
wasn’t watching fast-talking, suit-wearing felines trade quips and catty
remarks with each other while solving crimes.
She sat down on a concrete ledge near a couple of squirrel moms, but
she couldn’t bring herself to talk to them. In fact, she could barely keep
from snapping sarcastically at them. The squirrels kept saying things like,
“Allisyn says she thinks adults should just sit down and talk things out over a bowl
of candied nuts when they get mad, because candied nuts make everyone happy.
Isn’t that sweet?” and “Oh my gosh! Kits are so wise! That’s exactly what I do
with my litter when they get argumentative—sit them down with a bowl of candied
nuts!”
They wouldn’t have understood Olea’s problems, and she could barely
stand listening to theirs. It was a relief when the squirrels packed up their
litters and moved on, even if it did leave Shaun alone on the playground.
Once the little otter was the only pup on the playground, the shining
metal equipment lost its appeal, and he started wandering around the edges
of the play area, looking for sticks, poking at the dry leaves, and pulling up
blades of grass.
Shaun bounced back to his mother and presented her with a smooth,
dark chestnut. He proudly proclaimed, “Cho-bolo!”, the same nonsense
word she hadn’t understood earlier. She still didn’t understand it.
“That’s a chestnut,” Olea said, handing it back to him. “Squirrel scientists
had to genetically redesign chestnut trees to grow here. There’s an old
squirrel fairy tale about how chestnuts grant wishes. My mum used to tell
it to me when I was a pup.”
Shaun grinned widely and said, “Yeah!” Then he ran off to collect more
of them.
Olea was still sitting on the concrete ledge, rudder-tail going numb, next
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