Once upon a time,a little girl named Wendy
sat reading a book in the library. Her eyes began to
close—she couldn’t keep them open any longer. The
library was so quiet and warm and her book was
swimming before her eyes. Suddenly, from her book
that had started slipping from her lap, Muffy
the cat jumped up from page 7 and shouted at
Wendy. “Wait, wait, Wendy. Don’t close the
book yet! You haven’t finished hearing my story.
You haven’t even met my dearest friends.”
“Oh, sorry.” Wendy’s eyes sprang open with a
pop! “I’m awake now. Tell me about your friends. Is
this one of them on the next page?”
“This is my dearest friend Snuffy the skunk. He is
the most misunderstood of all creatures. He is so
friendly. He loves everybody, you know, and it hurts
him intensely when people run from him and avoid
his advances,” said Muffy tearfully.
“Well, if your skunk is so friendly, why does he
shoot that foul-smelling fog at us?”
“He doesn’t do that to friends—only to creatures
that mean to harm him,” Muffy said sadly. “Why,
once a dog came racing after him, meaning to tear
him apart and Snuffy squirted his perfume just
before that big mouth was about to clamp down. Do
you know what the people did? They shot one of
their nasty guns at him and barely missed Snuffy be-
fore he escaped under the hedge. And Snuffy didn’t
do a thing to that nasty old dog. He wanted them to
touch noses and get to know each other.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Muffy. He needs a big
friend to look after him, like a dog-guardian,” Wendy
sympathized.
“We do have another very dear friend. His name is
Ruffy. Turn the page and you can meet him.
“Why, it IS a dog, or no, is it really a dog?” Wendy
wondered. “It’s a coyote,” Muffy explained. “He is a
very misunderstood creature, too. People have shot
their guns at him, just like Snuffy. And he was just
minding his own business, ridding the farm of mice
that hid under the farmer’s stook of grain. The mice
were eating the farmer’s grain and carrying the ker-
nels away to store for their winter. Just look at the
picture on the next page and you will see how fast
Ruffy can pounce on those mice and grab them up in
his mouth.”
“I’m so sorry, Muffy. I thought the coyote was bad,
too. I thought he ate the farmer’s chickens,” Wendy
apologized.
“Come here, Ruffy, and tell Wendy about your har-
rowing experience—you and Snuffy,“ Muffy urged.
“Well, it was at night, just at dusk, when Snuffy
and I wandered through Farmer McMillan’s barn-
yard. I smelled food and my stomach was very emp-
ty. I hadn’t had a thing to eat all day.”
“That was when we first met,” Snuffy interrupted.
“As soon as Farmer McMillan saw me he ran for
his gun,” Ruffy groaned,
“But just as he raised his gun,” Snuffy volunteered,
“I stepped out from behind the chicken house and
started across the yard.”
“I was watching from the chicken house roof,”
said Muffy. “Just look at the next page... and I saw the
funniest thing. Farmer McMillan dropped his gun
and raced for the house with a screech like a disap-
pointed hawk.”
“So, sometimes you need a big friend to step in
and protect you, and sometimes you need a little
friend,” Snuffy crowed with satisfaction. Just then,
there was a crash and Wendy landed on the floor. It
was lucky that Wendy had a big friend like Leah in
the library to pick her up. Wendy discovered that,
just like Muffy, she had helpful friends, too. Muffy, Snuffy & Ruffy
Luckily, friends come in all shapes, sizes
—and smells by Lillian Ross, Drayton Valley, Alta.
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