A loose family of out-grown teddy bears and a few other abandoned companion animals lived together in an old, arch-top trunk of cast-off clothing, out-grown Halloween costumes, and out-of-work toys. The house-humans were hardly ever home, and Oren Pierce, the man who looked after the house in their absence, always left the radio on, tuned to a chatty public-radio station so the place would seem humanly inhabited.
The trunk itself was always held partly open by an old shoe jammed near the hinges, which enabled the bears to crawl in or out to sleep (which is what a Trunkbear does most of the time) or to lounge about listening to the radio. Because most of the Trunk Bears had mouths sewn shut, they were not much for talking, but they were very intent listeners. Their favorite radio programs were “Car Talk” and the local weather report.
One storm-dark evening, the Trunkbears were listening to a radio discussion of Global Warming, Weird Weather Patterns, and Species Extinction, as a slurry of rain and snow splattered against the glass door to the deck of the little house.
And then, SPLAT, the fish hit the door
We are speaking here of a large fish. A large Catfish: its fleshy whiskers flattened against the glass for a moment … a moment long enough that Nowella the Bear and the larger of the two Raccoons had time to rush to the door and watch as the fish slithered to the deck, and lay there twitching.
Such things happen.
Occasionally you read about someone like the farmer in New South Wales, who had been hoeing his beans when he was showered upon by a school of Mackerel. The usual explanation given for such events is that the school of Mackerel or Sardines had been picked up and delivered by a Water Spout
In fact, powerful Water Spouts are known to occur on the widest part of Cayuga Lake where this incident took place. But, whether this particular fish was picked up by hydroclones, dropped from a plane, or shot from a cannon, Nowella (who, unlike the other Trunkbears, was well acquainted with weather) could not bear to leave this rudely transported fish out in that freezing rain.
Oneil the Independent Hand helped Nowella slide the door open, then the two of them and Big Coon, joined by Little Wooly Bear, grabbing the fish by its whiskers and fins, and dragged it over the threshold into the house, where a few of the braver Bears each grabbed a whisker or a fin and helped pull the Catfish (which was longer than two or three cats) across the floor, following Nowella into the little bathroom, and right to the shower stall.
From her extensive fishing experience, Nowella knew that Catfish differ from most other fishes, as do frogs and certain other amphibians, in that they can, to some extent, respire through the permeable membrane of their skin. Surely no Bear can breathe through its very thick, hairy skin, and other than the limited example of Oneil the independent hand, there are only a few documented humans (or human parts) with that talent, mostly in upper Ganges lowlands of India. But to remain effective out of water, Catfish skin, unlike Oneil’s adapted epidermis, needs to stay moist, and Nowella well knew that the shower-head had a chronic drip.
That group effort of understanding and kindness was the salvation of Walter. Not only was Walter able to survive in the merely moist bathroom; he was content there.
As a matter of fact, he was unwilling for an extended time to even leave that room. He spent a whole week - or maybe it was a month - in the bathroom before he ever ventured out, and during that month in the bathroom , as Walter became somewhat acclimated to life out in the air, he grew aware of the sounds in the air. The sounds were voices. it was the voices that finally drew him out. He would eventually become almost one of the Trunkbears, although something of an out-lier, and he would never fully understand what any of them or the radio were talking about, nor would any of them ever remember when or why they started calling him “Walter.”
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