Gabriel's Tale - Chapter 3: The Adventure Begins

Chapter 3 – The Adventure Begins

Gabriel didn’t go far his first day.  He wanted to visit all of Poetry’s friends in the neighborhood to find out if they knew where she might be.  His first stop was Gertrude Rabbit’s hole. 

 “Who are you and what do you want!?” she scowled.  Gabriel, forgetting he was now a little white dog, introduced himself as Gabriel the Snowman.  “Harrumph!” Gertrude snorted.  “You expect me to believe that?!”  Gabriel blushed when he realized what he’d said.  After explaining everything to her, Gertrude said rather rudely, “I can’t help you,” then turned and high-tailed it back into her hole.

Gabriel was not to be discouraged.  He sat there and thought hard to remember some of Poetry’s other friends.
 
There was Benjamin Bee, but he had no idea where to find him in the middle of winter.

As for Sandy the dog, he remembered Poetry told him she'd moved away.



Wait!  What about those cats that live in the cabin—the cabin Poetry said she went to through the woods.  Gabriel took off like a bolt of lightning for the woods behind the house.  He sniffed his way carefully across an old barbed wire fence that now lay on the ground as he followed a path into a clearing where he saw the cabin nestled at the foot of a low cliff.

It was early afternoon  now.  The sun was well over the cliff and showering its rays through the many trees surrounding the quaint little cabin.  Gabriel approached the porch cautiously…what if the old couple telephoned the lady in the cabin to tell her to be on the lookout for a little white dog!  Gabriel lifted his nose and sniffed the air.  He was not picking up any human scents, but there was definitely a scent there.  Is this what cats smell like?  Is this how Poetry smells?  Gabriel stood on his hind legs and peered in through the window.

There by the fireplace lay two cats.  That must be George and Molly.  Gabriel tapped on the window.  One of the cats looked up and meowed something to his brother.  Poetry had told him that Molly had been named before they realized he was a boy, and they never changed his name.  He remembered Poetry telling him that Molly was teased about his name by the other cats in the neighborhood so he had a chip on his shoulder and tended to be a bit bossy.

It was Molly who got up and crossed the room to the window.  George soon followed.  Both cats cautiously approached Gabriel even though a pane of glass separated them.  One could never be too careful when it came to dogs.  There stood Gabriel with his front paws on the sill, his tail wagging in a big circle.  A huge, eager smile broke out across his face as he hoped Molly and George could tell him where Poetry had gone.  Molly spoke first, “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for my best friend, Poetry the Calico Cat.  Have you seen her?”  Gabriel eagerly asked.  By now George was at the window.  He was a little more cautious than his brother.

“I…I….I don’t recall Poetry ever having a little white dog as a best friend,” George said.

Gabriel gave a nervous little laugh, “Oh right—I forgot to mention that I’m Gabriel—Gabriel the Snowman—that is, I used to be a Snowman. I’m a little white dog now….as you can see,” he added, his voice trailing off.  His brow creased as he worried they wouldn’t believe him.  If that were the case, why would they tell him anything!

Just then Gabriel heard a car drive up.  Uh oh.  He turned his head away from the window for a moment.  When he turned back to the window Molly and George were gone.  He hadn’t a moment to lose—he ran down the steps on the other side of the porch and hid in the bushes as a lady got out of the car and walked up to the cabin.  Molly was the first to the door when it opened.  “Well, what’s the matter Molly?” the lady asked.  “You don’t usually bother leaving your pillow to greet me when I come home.”  Bending down the lady scratched Molly behind his ears as George wove in and out of her legs.  “My, my.  Why all this attention?” she remarked again as she placed her purse on the table.

Molly and George began meowing about the little white dog that claimed to be Poetry’s friend.  Meanwhile, Gabriel stayed in the bushes wondering, What should I do now?  I can’t let the lady see me.  He was starting to feel cold—and hungry and—worried.

“Chip, chip, chip.”  Gabriel cocked his head.  He thought he heard something.

“Chip, chip, chip.”  He did.  Just then a little chipmunk appeared under his nose.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” Gabriel asked as tears welled up in his eyes.

“No, siree, no indeed, and I’m not afraid of those cats in there either.  I’m Connor, by the way.”  Gabriel wiped the tears from his eyes and extended his paw to the little fellow.

“And I’m Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?” Connor repeated.  “I used to have a friend whose best friend was named Gabriel.”  Gabriel’s ears perked up.  “Yes, siree,” Connor continued, “I helped her get out of the cabin one night when she got locked in there with those crazy cats!”

Gabriel suddenly felt his heart thumping.  “You mean you know her?!”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Connor snorted.

“Yes, yes,” Gabriel barked, then quickly ducked down realizing someone might have heard him.  He lowered his voice and began to tell Connor his sad story.  Needless to say Connor was a bit skeptical, but something told him Gabriel was telling the truth.

Scratching his head, Connor said, “Well, I guess it’s all right then to tell you where Poetry is, but I don’t think it’s going to be much help in finding her.”

 

Gabriel’s brow creased as he listened intently to Connor tell how Poetry’s family had been transferred to a place far across the ocean.  A place called Great Britain.  That’s all he knew.  Poetry hadn’t known a thing about it until she’d been put in a crate and placed in the car.  Connor heard about it from the lady who lived in the cabin as she talked on the phone one evening when he was in there looking for nuts that’d fallen down the chimney.  Great Britain sounded awfully far away, but Gabriel was determined he’d find Poetry somehow.

That night an exhausted Gabriel slept soundly under the bush.  He’d burrowed under the leaves and stayed quite warm.  It was a new feeling for him—to worry about being too cold.  When he was a Snowman he had to worry about getting too warm.

By the time the sun had peeked over the cliff behind the cabin the day was already well on its way.  He heard noises coming from the cabin and from outside, as well.  The two cats were out in the snow.  Great! thought Gabriel.  Maybe they can tell me more about where Poetry has gone.

Gabriel did not want to scare the cats so he started making whimpering noises, hoping they’d come to investigate—and they did!  Molly led the way.  “Wait up!” cried George who tumbled into the back end of Molly when Molly stopped abruptly.

“Watch out!” George grumbled.

“But you told me to wait!” complained Molly.  They picked themselves up taking a moment to lick their fur back into place.  Come on, thought Gabriel, you can do that later.  Gabriel whimpered again.  He was afraid the cats would forget about their investigation.  It worked.  He got their attention, and they headed toward the bush once again.

“Look!” Molly said.  “There’s that dog—the Snowman—Gabriel.”  George stifled a giggle.  He thought that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard of—a Snowman who turned into a dog!  Maybe an igloo, but a dog?!  But, then, he did seem to know all about Poetry….

Gabriel climbed out of the bush.  He told them what Connor had said and asked if they knew anything more.  “Oh, yes,” Molly and George said in unison.  They told Gabriel they’d overheard that Poetry’s family was to move to Scotland—Edinburgh they thought.  They had to take a very long airplane ride to get there.  Poetry would have to go in a crate, and she was not very happy about that they said.  George had heard Poetry’s yowls through the woods that morning she left.  With a heavy heart Gabriel remembered Poetry’s loud meows, too, but at the time thought perhaps she was just going to the Veterinarian.  He had had no idea that day what was really happening—that his best friend was leaving him!—forever.  No!  I mustn’t think that way.  I will go to Scotland and find her.

Molly’s ears perked up just then.  “What?” his brother asked.

“I just had a thought,” Molly said.  “Isn’t Mom getting her delivery today?  I heard her talking to the trucking company.  Her furniture is being delivered from Baltimore—and isn’t Baltimore where all the big ships dock?”

“I get what you’re saying,” George said.

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose.  He was confused.   There was SO much in the world he didn’t understand yet.  George turned to Gabriel, “Don’t you see?!  You can climb into the back of the truck and hitch a ride to Baltimore.  Then from there you can hitch a ride on a boat to Scotland!” Yes!  Maybe that would work!

©CathyGilleylenSchultz

Chapter 4:  The Journey Begins