As slowly and deliberately as the first, great yawn of the morning, life around Cunningham Farm wakes and stretches toward the new day.
An early spring storm blew across the land during the night, blowing things this way and that, bringing down new leaves and old branches.
The crisp, moist air smells sweet (almost good enough to eat) as a million rising suns reflect in a million clinging raindrops, making everything glisten and gleam.
Warm breaths rise from the barnyard and linger briefly in the cold, damp dawn as smoke begins to drift from the kitchen chimney and another day on the little farm begins for all – for both the big and the very, very small.
There is a spot called Lauren’s Creek
on some land known as Cunningham Farm.
It’s a special place of which I speak
for although it’s quite small, it has charm.
On this creek, there lives an ant
who built his small house on its banks.
And as much as the walls made of mud tend to slant –
for his home, he gives plenty of thanks.
His name to human ears might appear
to make little sense whatsoever,
but if you read on, you will soon learn
of a practice that’s really quite clever.
For not all living creatures, you see,
have names like you and I.
They do not begin with an “s”, “a”, or “g”
and it’s not ours to always ask why.
Instead many animals use different sounds
to make their names known to their sort;
be it “baaahs” of the sheep, “woofs” of the hounds,
as well as the pigs that go “snort!”
Now as to the name of the ant mentioned here,
who presently lies fast asleep,
he’s known by all antfolk who live far and near
as the wise and most neighborly “Eeep.”
All cozy and warm in his house on the creek,
his six legs tucked snug in his bed,
Eeep’s nap is cut short by the start of a leak
that drips a big drop on his head.
His eyes flutter open and look to the roof
when the water begins to pour down.
It’s then that he hears a distinctly close “WOOF!”
“Blast that dog!” he declares with a frown.
Climbing from bed, now soggy and mired,
Eeep stomps to the door leading out.
“Go away, you big beast, for I’m dreadfully tired!”
he calls in his loudest ant shout.
But the dog, who regrettably doesn’t speak “Ant”
pays no mind to the ant’s plea to “Shoo.”
He just romps down the creek with a wag and a pant,
leaving poor Eeep rather blue.
”Now I’ll have to rebuild,” he replies with a moan.
“Since that beast came I’ve worked day and night,
I wish that dumb dog would go chew on a bone.
Always ruining my house isn’t right.”
Now the dog, known as Noble, to folk on the farm
really isn’t as bad as Eeep guesses.
For truly his purpose is not to do harm,
but he sometimes creates little messes.
And really, their difference in size is so great,
it’s not fair to give Noble the blame.
Although the ant’s house is in quite a bad state,
it was too small to see – that’s the shame.
But what can Eeep do with a problem so grand?
It’s quite clear that the dog will return.
“I’ve got it,” he cries. “It’s a sheer brilliant plan.
All my bad luck’s now surely to turn.”
So up Eeep climbs, to the banks of the creek
where he toils and struggles and strains.
That obstinate ant works for nearly a week,
until all of his energy drains.
“My work’s now complete,” the ant says with a smile.
“This time Noble I’ll surely outsmart.
I’ll wait here and watch for that hound to pass by.”
Thus, behind a large mushroom he darts.
Eeep doesn’t wait long for the dog to arrive
for soon out of the bush he comes leaping.
Then into the creek the dog makes a grand dive;
while very nearby Eeep stands peeping.
”Oh please, please, please, let my hard work succeed,”
the ant wishes with all of his might.
“A good night’s rest I terribly need!”
His little heart pounds with such fright.
Then with great joy, Eeep sees what he wishes,
the dread Noble is changing his route.
“Yippee!” cries the ant, “my house has been missed!
No thanks to that big, ugly brute.”
The reason, you see, that the dog is outsmarted
is that now the creek flows left AND right.
Eeep through his labor the water has parted
-securing his home out of sight.
His house now lies left, on the narrower side,
where the water just trickles a trail.
And Noble, preferring his creeks deep and wide,
was sure to go right without fail.
Content that his troubles are finally through –
for at last there is no dog to dread –
now that the creek is divided in two,
with great glee, Eeep heads straight for his bed!
Noble, a Labrador black as the night
oversees all life on the farm.
With the sun, he bounds across the land.
With the moon, he makes sure none see harm.
With great pride, he meanders across the old farm
sniffing out every scent to be found.
With a wag of his tail and a bark here and there,
he covers each inch of the ground.
His name is quite apt, as you will see.
For his kindness and courage he’s known.
From the time he was only a wee, little pup,
a goodness he’s gallantly shown.
His coat is as shiny as silver and gold
His tongue is as pink as a rose.
His big, brown eyes watch with great care
all that goes past the tip of his nose.
Now and again, there’s a rabbit to tease
or a chicken to chase ‘round the barn.
But then there’s a time to be sober and staid
when Noble must guard the old farm.
A few summers back, great trouble arose
when some children were playing with matches.
A bale of hay caught fire in the barn.
And we all know how quickly hay catches.
Now Noble, whose nose is as keen as they come
was the first to smell trouble nearby.
He raced to the barn and saw the great flames
and barked out a loud warning cry.
The children had found their way out of the barn,
but still left were two cows and a horse.
By now the thick smoke billowed out the barn doors
and the flames of the fire raged full force.
From the field Farmer Jim had run to the scene
and called for all hands that could aid.
He knew that he’d have to go into that barn
if those animals were to be saved.
The smoke was too thick to be able to see
and the farmhands were set to resign,
when into the barn ran the farmer, called Jim
with Noble, his dog, close behind.
With wondrous speed, Noble found the poor beasts
all huddled in fright in one section.
He “Woofed!” and he “Woofed!” as loud as he could,
thus guiding the farmer’s direction.
All were saved in the end, but the barn was destroyed.
All that’s left now are three walls of stone.
Yet oddly enough, it’s a functional spot
where Noble likes burying bones.
Like the barn, it’s most certain that things come and go
and sometimes the change is alarming.
In fact, on the day little Lauren arrived,
Noble watched his folk buzzing and swarming.
At first, Noble found this small creature a pest
as he sat there and watched her make faces.
But as the seasons gradually passed,
Lauren managed to earn Noble’s graces.
Now anytime little Lauren’s at play,
you’re sure to find Noble around –
giving wet doggy kisses on each rosy cheek
as they run, and they romp, and they bound.
Noble discovered change wasn’t so bad.
It adds more to the life that he tends.
Not only is Lauren a change that he loves,
she’s also his very best friend.
Lauren was born on a cool autumn’s eve
as the stars made a home in her eyes.
When Lauren cries, the whole farm grieves
and when she laughs, smiles rise.
When Lauren gained faith in her two tiny feet,
all life on the farm stopped to see.
One foot, then the next, she’d step and she’d step.
“Sweet Lauren,” all urged, “come to me!”
Now Lauren well knows every inch of the land.
She explores whenever she’s able.
She knows the farm better than any farmhand
from the edge of the fields to the stable.
She seeks out adventures with Noble close by,
finding castles in old broken shacks.
She closes her eyes and imagines she flies,
swooping down toward the old railroad tracks.
Each day that she heads down this old railroad line,
Lauren finds a new life to befriend.
Just as the time that she heard a great whine
and sensed there was something to tend.
Giving ear to the cries, Lauren finally discovered
a fat cat that was stuck in a hole.
It seems the poor kitty got stuck in the ground
when chasing her lunch – a small mole.
The cat squiggled and squirmed with all of its might,
thus hoping to squeeze its way out.
But all of its squirming had worsened its plight,
for the cat was quite clearly too stout.
When the stuck cat heard Noble she clawed and she wriggled
and her tail pointed straight in the air.
Then Lauren kneeled down to the poor cat and giggled,
“Don’t worry, fat kitty, I’m here.”
“There-there, little kitty,” Lauren said with a pat,
as she eased her new friend from the ground.
Her sweet, gentle voice soon calmed the poor cat
and a purr was the very next sound.
On this farm, there’s a pond used for fishing,
where the frogs like to croak until morn’.
It’s also a good spot for wishing.
One came true when sweet Lauren was born.
Night wraps around the land like a great, cozy comforter, as life on and around the farm settles down for another winter’s eve. A gentle snowfall coats the fields and farmhouse with a frosty, white layer – like icing on a cake.
The sound of the wind against the windows and through the trees makes Lauren snuggle further beneath her blankets and cuddle closer to Noble curled contentedly at her side. In the dark of her room, she tries to imagine the shapes of each tiny snowflake and soon dreams of a land with castles made of ice and people made of snow; while Noble dreams of chasing rabbits and diving into snowdrifts.
Somewhere in their sleep, the two friends meet and walk side by side across the farm, making tracks in the snow everywhere they go to say hello to life on old Cunningham Farm.
Dog-eared Stories 