Rogers Ferdinand

On the outskirts of Rogers Cove, near the last turn of the river Angus, lived a boy named Percy. One evening, just before supper, young Percy was skipping rocks on the Angus, when he noticed something strange. The sky across Humble Valley began to change color. The quiet mountain air began to fill with the sounds of honking horns, shouting voices, and clinging metal. It was the mountain city of Excess.

Percy quickly noticed he was feeling a bit different. Suddenly, his joy was gone.

“We only want more, once we discover there’s more to be had.” Said an old, grey, wired-hair terrier sitting next to Percy.

“Hey! Wait a minute! Are you…?” Percy gleamed with excitement.

“Oh. Oh, yes. I suppose I am.” The dog said. "Rogers. Rogers Ferdinand is the name,” shaking snow off his back. “Not sure why she chose the Ferdinand, probably after the bull I suppose, and you must be Percy?”

“Wow.” Percy gasped while shaking his head yes. “Where did you come from?”

“Well actually, Percy, I’ve been here all along,” Rogers said.

“You have? But I’ve never seen you before?”

“That’s because you’ve never felt unhappy before.”

“Unhappy?” Percy said with a confused look on his face. “What is unhappy?

“Unhappy,” Rogers said, looking across a meander of the river Angus, “well, let me put it like this,” It’s the moment skipping rocks,” Rogers pauses and looks up at Percy, “becomes, just skipping rocks.”

“What do you mean?” Percy asked.

“You enjoy skipping rocks, don’t you, Percy?”

“Yes sir.”

“Please, no need to call me sir. Nine-hundred and forty-eight in dog years is still quite young.” Rogers says as they turn to start walking to the cabin for supper. “But let me ask you, Percy, is it the skipping of rocks you enjoy, or the feeling skipping the rocks brings?”

“I dunno. The feeling, I guess.”

“That’s right, Percy. A dog can have all the bones in the world but can only chew one at a time. Don’t let your appetite spoil your meal.”

“I think I understand,” Percy said. “I like the feeling of skipping rocks.”

“Then skip away, my boy!”

“Should I not want more?” Percy asked.

“What in the name of excess would make you think that? Just look at this.” Rogers places his paw on his belly. “This doesn’t happen by not asking for more. Just make sure the more you ask, the better you feel. Even I’m guilty of taking more than enough, at times.”

“So, it’s ok to want more rocks then? And maybe more arms to throw them?”

“If that’s what makes you happy, then sure. But how many will be enough?”

“Oh.” Percy says. “It’s hard knowing what more, to want more of, isn’t it?”

“Only if you don’t know what more you need. Didn’t you have enough before you knew you could have more?”

“I suppose. But if I’m unhappy, then what do I want more of?”

Percy’s mother opens the cabin door, and a small puppy runs out and jumps into Percy’s arms, licking Percy’s face as he’s laughing and rolling in the snow.

“Tell me, Percy,” Rogers asks, “what does a puppy need?”

“A family! And love! And friends! And lots of treats and toys!”

Percy is so excited playing with the new puppy, he doesn’t notice Rogers is gone. Percy and his new friend laugh their way into the cabin.

“Who were you talking to, Percy?” His mother asked just before she shut the door.

“Oh, Rogers!” Percy looks back to see Rogers nowhere around. “Rogers!” He calls out again. Nothing.

“Who?” Percy’s mother asked.

“He was just there.” Percy looks out onto the empty snow field yard.

“Let’s go. Inside. We’re not heating up the Cove.” His mother shuts the door.

Percy plays with his new puppy next to the fire. His mother goes into the kitchen, leans over the sink, and moves the curtain to glance out the kitchen window to see Rogers rolling around in the snow. She knocks on the window to get his attention.

“What?” Rogers says, looking back at her, “Maybe next time when I ask for more pie, you’ll think twice.”

THE END