The Draconian Guide…

When she found it she knew. The title (poorly translated from the Greek) was “The Draconian Guide to Raising Humans”

Now, while the Dragon herself felt that Draco was a positive figure in the aggregate history of human government, she was not sure how his stringent moral law would help her find nourishment for a baby.

So she was vastly and conspicuously relieved when she opened the book (only slightly singed) and found original talon-drawn illustrations and a surprisingly maternal self-portrait of the author–Naga P. Doxia. It appeared that this esteemed authoress and dragoness had pioneered a little known and even less understood movement to foster understanding and community between dragons and humans.

Dame Naga had put forth the idea that when human population experienced paroxysms of orphanage, dragons should fill the gap. This was a controversial prospect from the outset. The dragon communities felt that their benevolence would be mistaken for usurpage or worse yet, kidnapping. They were a solitary and cloistered folk, and the scrutiny and prospect of intrusion and misunderstanding filled them with a grim and slithery fear.

And the humans? They took immediate and vociferous umbrage at the idea entirely!

Yet, Doxia had persevered, doggedly pursuing her trifold goals of fostering understanding, writing about her passion, and adopting actual human children. It was the last of course which drove and illuminated the others.

It was a thoroughly engrossing read.

What she finds…

Several soft blankets
Bolts of fabric of varies types and weights
Several sets of ornate nesting dolls
A compass and a globe
Several deep rugs and tapestries
A silver brush

None of this seemed to quite fit the need of the moment. What did this tiny child need now? Surely not a compass or a brush or even nesting dolls. He needed to nest like a tiny bird. He needed to be held and loved. But sometime quite soon he would need nourishment. What would she do about that? What else would she need to provide for him?

She continued to search through the things she had gathered. Finally she found the scrolls, the books which lay in a haphazard pile next to several piles of doubloons and other coinage scavenged mostly through dim sun-spooked dives into the wreckage of ships downed by storms, rocks and buccaneers.

Books. This would take some time. Could she find some treatise or guide about raising this small child?

She would need to find something quickly. She began to sort through the books, careful to breath slowly, as softly as possible so that she would neither disturb the child nor singe the books.

She rummages through

The dragon was aware of her deficiencies–her reptile bulk, her scaly and inhospitable limbs. She had fierce clawed mitts where a Mother’s hands should be. At best she was barely adequate for the task of parenting a human child. While the little one slept in the crook of her arm she began to search through her vast piles of objects for anything that might help her to nourish and sustain this tiny child whom she already loved deeply.

A long time coming

She knew what it meant to live a thousand years. She could see beyond the curve of each horizon.

As with all dragons, she was a searcher and until the child changed the focal point of her immaculate sight, she wandered to and fro collecting the glinting treasure others failed to see.

She looked in unexpected places. It was never enough. No matter how much or how costly the gleaning, once acquired it only served to remind her of her empty soul, her brooding heart.

Until the child…

Grandfather of the year…

I always wondered what my father would have said or done if he had been alive when we discovered that C had abused children. I will be honest, I doubt he would have moved mountains.

But I have come across a grandpa who is. In response to concern about a grandchild he has started an online protest, cold-called people warning them and posted hotline numbers.

I do not know the whole story. I just think this response is atypical.

Most of us go the quiet road…

Hic sunt dracones

A word on draco–um. Dragons. There are two branches of dragon ancestry–eastern and western. In the Middle country dragons are the ancestors of empire, the progenitors of kings.
They are, in short, our parents already.

The western tradition is entwined with the eastern in that the Mongols crossed the steppes and who knows what Marco said about them? But the western dragons are a chimerical bunch–they have arms, legs, wings that may or not be vestigial.

Their blood might be either immortal or toxic. They are the clear and long-sighted guardians of treasure, rivers, waters, and lairs.

They have fire in their nostrils. Armored skin. But who knows their hearts? Who knows their ancient souls?

The Baby

At first there was stillness, the even breathing of the child. The dragon marveled at the tiny child–how beautiful he was and how much she loved him.

She could not bear the thought of ever being away from him. She was afraid of what the world held. Plus, she was beginning to worry about food. What would she do? What could she do? She was a dragon.

Cat stories

Years ago there were two stray cats who adopted us. They were pregnant at the same time and had two litters of kittens. J. had the brilliant idea to give the kittens away at a preschool graduation.
One of our children was quite upset about his decision. She wailed as he took them to the school- mom, he’s giving away all the kittens!!!

The same two cats had a subsequent litter and taught their kittens to stay well away from humans–not to be trusted.