I Wish I Had a Polar Bear

I Wish I Had a Polar Bear

                          by Valerie L. Egar

     If I had a polar bear, I’d name him Blueberry, because after polar bears, blueberries are what I like best.

   On Saturdays, Blueberry and I would stroll down Main Street and window shop. I’d point out the red bike in Mitch’s Bicycle Shop and he’d look at the smoked salmon in Gourmet World. Everyone would take pictures of us and post them on Facebook.  

    After our walk, we’d stop for ice cream at Dairy Delight. I’d order vanilla for both of us and ask the server to please put his in a dish. I don’t think a polar bear can hold a cone, but I’d give him a taste of mine.

   If I had a polar bear, I’d bring him to school. I’d tell him to be very quiet when the teacher talked. At lunchtime, he’d know to wait in line without pushing, even when pizza was served.

 All the bullies would stay far away from us. If they wanted to make friends with him, I’d say, “Maybe. Blueberry has to think about it, he’s very particular.”

If I had a polar bear, I’d ask Coach Simmons if he could be on the soccer team.  A polar bear would be a great goalie and maybe our team would win for a change. I wonder if team shirts come in extra-extra-extra large?

If I had a polar bear, I would tell him my secrets and he would keep them, not like my big-mouth friend Jenna who told everybody in school about my pants ripping in the back when I bent down to pick up my pencil.

If I had a polar bear, we’d take a trip to the Arctic every year to visit his family. We’d dog-sled across the tundra with presents of herring and salmon lashed onto the sled. I’d remember to bring a good supply of peanut butter and jelly so I wouldn’t be hungry. I think fish is icky.

If I had a polar bear, we’d swim in the lake every day in the summer. If he used my inner tube, he’d pop it with his sharp claws, so I’d ask Dad to get him something nice he could use as a float, maybe a big log. Better yet, maybe Dad would let him float on top of the canoe.

If I had a polar bear, we’d go to the fair together. I’d buy him a funnel cake. If he liked cotton candy, I’d buy him that, too. I don’t think he’d like to ride on a Ferris wheel, but he might like to try the Merry-go-Round. If he did, I’d stay next to him, so he wouldn’t be scared.

If I had a polar bear, my friends and I would play hide and seek with him in the winter.  With all the snow, he would be hard to find and that would make us laugh.

 If I had a polar bear, we would talk to the President and the United Nations about preserving the places polar bears live. Blueberry would convince them to do what’s right with his polar bear smile and big paws.

If I had a polar bear, he would hug me at night and I would fall asleep nestled in his sweet warm fur.

         I wish I had a polar bear!

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Copyright 2015 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author. Published in  Journal Tribune Sunday on  August 25, 2015 and Making it at Home on October 1, 2015.                       .

Phoenix Takes a Walk

Phoenix, fast asleep, after his long walk.

       By Valerie L. Egar

    

         Every Sunday afternoon, Emily’s beautiful Siberian husky, Phoenix, took her for a walk through Bloomfield. Phoenix knew the town very well and pulled Emily all the places he wanted to go.

       The town’s restaurant, Honeycomb, was Phoenix’s favorite stop and that’s where he went first. Emily had to run to keep up. Phoenix stood outside and smelled the delicious aroma of steak sandwiches and cheeseburgers. What was that scent he couldn’t quite recognize? Ah, pancakes with maple syrup from the morning. Mmmm.

       Phoenix wished that once, just once, Emily would open the door and allow him to go inside, but he contented himself with looking in the windows as he passed by. People pointed at him and smiled. He knew they were admiring him.

Sometimes, people came out of the restaurant carrying bags of leftovers. The bags were called “doggie bags,” so why didn’t they give them to him? Phoenix was always disappointed. Although people said hello and pat his head, no one shared their doggie bag with him.

         After they passed the restaurant, Phoenix visited Tracey’s Gift Shop. Tracey painted beautiful scenes on Christmas ornaments and sat at a table working  when

she wasn’t helping customers.  Phoenix knew if he stared in the window long enough, she would notice him and come outside. Sure enough, Tracey spotted Phoenix.

          “Aren’t you a beautiful boy?” she said. She rubbed him behind his ears and he wagged his tail.

          Next stop was the park in the center of town. Phoenix liked inspecting the trees and walking in the cool grass.  Usually his friend Roger was in the park on Saturday afternoon with his two dogs, Faith and Willow. Phoenix was always excited to see them. He looked around. They weren’t by the water fountain.  Not next to the park bench behind the oak tree. Not in the park at all.  Too bad.

          Phoenix pulled Emily up the hill to the fire station.  On Sunday afternoon, crew members washed the trucks and one of the men usually carried a dog biscuit in his back pocket for Phoenix. Today, though, the trucks sat in the driveway shiny and clean with a troop of boy scouts inspecting them. The Fire Chief was explaining the parts of the truck and how they worked.

          “Look, a husky!” one of the scouts yelled.  Soon the whole troop surrounded Phoenix to pet him.

         “May I take some pictures?” the Scout Master asked Emily.  Each boy wanted a picture with Phoenix.

        When they finished, Emily said, “Are we done? I’m getting tired!” but Phoenix had one more place he liked to go.

          Phoenix pulled Emily up the hill to the Franklin’s house. Mr. and Mrs. Franklin were sitting on the porch. Mr. Franklin was reading the newspaper and Mrs. Franklin was peeling apples to make a pie.

  “Why, if it isn’t Phoenix!” Mrs. Franklin said. “I’ve been saving something for you.” She put down the apple she was peeling and went inside the house. Soon she came out with a small bag.  “We went out to eat last night and we brought the leftovers home for Phoenix.”

Emily politely said, “Thank you,” and Phoenix wagged his tail and jumped high in the air he was so happy. Finally, a doggie bag!  It smelled delicious. He couldn’t wait to see what was inside.

When he got home, he ate the leftover steak the Franklins gave him and fell asleep, content with his perfect Sunday walk.

Like the story? Feel free to share it on Facebook. Copyright 2016 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author.  Published December 4, 2016 in The Sunday Journal Tribune.

The Secret Cat

Shh! I only tell tales about cats when Phoenix is asleep.

                                                                         by  Valerie L. Egar

When Uncle Tasher said he was bringing her a cat he’d found in Egypt, Julie wondered how he managed to bring it home on the airplane. Then, she wondered how he persuaded her parents to allow a cat in the house. She’d asked for a kitten over and over and they always said, “No!”

 Julie couldn’t wait to see it, but when Uncle Tasher arrived, all he carried with him was a small painting of a ruddy colored kitten with large green eyes. Julie thought she might cry. It wasn’t what she was expecting at all. She wanted a real cat, not a picture of one.

“Let me hang the picture for you,” said Uncle Tasher. Julie pointed to a place on the wall in her bedroom. While he hammered the hook into the sheetrock, he explained that he bought the painting from a mysterious man in crowded bazaar. “He assured me it’s magic, “ Uncle Tasher said. “Just wait until tonight.”

Julie rolled her eyes. Uncle Tasher was always making jokes.

            That night, when the moon shone on the picture, the cat’s eyes seemed to glow. Julie thought she saw its head move, but maybe it was a shadow from the tree outside her window. She stared at the painting and watched, fascinated, as the kitten stood and stretched. Then, with a great leap he jumped onto her bed.

               “Oh my!” Julia said. She scratched him under the chin and he purred happily.

            “Do you need something to eat?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure whether magical cats needed food and water. She sneaked into the kitchen and got a tiny cup of water and a piece of cheese, but he didn’t want any.  Instead, he explored the room, rolled a few pencils off her desk and batted at the cord hanging from the blinds. Then he settled on the windowsill, bathing in the moonlight.

            “You need a name,” said Julie. She tried to remember some of the Egyptian names Uncle Tasher mentioned. He’d talked about kings, queens and ancient gods and goddesses, but Julie couldn’t remember any of them. She loved his description of a boat ride on a river called the Nile, and that’s what she decided to call the kitten.

            When Julie woke up, Nile was gone. Julie glanced at the painting. There he was, still and quiet.

            Never had Julie been so anxious to get to bed as she was that night. She didn’t ask for a second bedtime story. She didn’t say she was thirsty.

            When she put the light out, she stared and stared at the picture. At first it seemed like nothing was going to happen. Then, Nile’s tail curled and he yawned.  A great leap and he was on the bed, purring and rubbing his head on Julie’s face.

           Julie wiggled her toes and Niles pounced on them. Julie giggled.  She fell asleep with Niles curled beside her on the pillow. When she woke, Niles was gone, back inside the painting.

Every night Julie and Niles played and enjoyed each other’s company. Every morning, Niles was back inside the picture frame, silent and still.

One day as Mom vacuumed the bedroom carpet as Julie dusted. Mom noticed what seemed to be cat hair on the deep blue rug. She was puzzled. “Can’t be,” she said.

Julie looked at the picture on the wall and the mysterious little cat winked. Julie winked back at her special, secret cat.

Like the story? Share the story with your friends on Facebook and visit my author's page, Valerie L. Egar on Facebook. Copyright 2016 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author. Published May 8, 2016 in the Sunday Journal Tribune.