The Richardsville Chronicles II

We didn’t know exactly what it was. A relatively small, gray animal. We found it under the trees where George and I played with our matchboxes. We showed it to Gary, who immediately looked it up. Not on his phone. This was long, long before the days of mobile phones. He had an encyclopedia of some sort. It sat on the shelf in the hall between the back porch where a large table held the gathering fruit of Aunt Emma’s canning and the screened in porch. He soon announced: “It’s a shrew.” 

The poor thing was quite dead, but Gary was nothing if not adventurous. He proceeded to snip open its tummy, empty its guts, and then stuff it with cotton and sew it back up. George and I now had a shrew toy! But what to do with it?

I do think it was George who thought up this one: poor Aunt Fanny that evening was lying abed with a headache. George said: “Close your eyes.” She did. And he wiped the soft shrew fur all over her face. I believe she said: “That feels good. What is that?” She didn’t exactly YELL, when she opened her eyes and saw the shrew, but she gave us lads the exact sort of reaction we were hoping for. 

I honestly don’t recall what we ended up doing with the little monstrosity, but it had served its purpose. Getting a rise out of Aunt Fanny was always one of the great joys of time in Richardsville!