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    Rugby and Ralph
    Rugby and Ralph
    Rugby and Ralph
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    Rugby and Ralph

    By Carla Brownlee

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    About this ebook

    The dum-muddle adventures of two friends, Ralph, an aging barn cat who has become so intimidated by the mice that he needs armour to chase them, and Rugby, a brown and white pony, who believes he has shrunk because his children have grown too big to ride him. Together they accidently join the carnival, save neglected animals and host a costume party the mice will never forget.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCarla Brownlee
    Release dateFeb 24, 2014
    ISBN9781311130389
    Rugby and Ralph
    Author

    Carla Brownlee

    Carla Brownlee lives in the woods,near the Fox River in Illinois with her husband, cats and horses. Her books are as varied in style and content as her interests in life. When she's not writing she might be found in the show ring on her Dressage horse or pulling out weeds in her garden. She is currently working on a children's fantasy book which should be out next summer.

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      Book preview

      Rugby and Ralph - Carla Brownlee

      Rugby and Ralph

      by

      Carla Brownlee

      This book was published by

      Owl-in-the-Woods Literary works

      Distributed by Smashwords

      copyrighted

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Chapter 1 The Great Mouse Hunt

      Chapter 2 Joining the Carnival

      Chapter 3 The Rescue Mission

      Chapter 4 Ralph Goes to a Tea Party and Stays

      Chapter 5 Rudy Bumnuggets

      Chapter 6 Rudy Makes a Friend

      Chapter 7 The Party

      Chapter 8 Ralph Goes to A Show

      Chapter 9 Kiwi Turns into a Tween

      CHAPTER 1

      THE GREAT MOUSE HUNT

      In a dark, wooden stall, in a big, empty barn stood a brown and white pony named Rugby. He watched through the spaces in the boards for the farmer to come and let him out into his pasture where the weeds stood taller than he was. He spent his days there with the grasshoppers and the gossipy birds remembering the days when the children were small and rode him for hours through the grassy fields. As he dreamed in the dawn, he could hear them laughing and feel them brushing his long mane that now lay in tangles.

      If only I hadn’t gotten so small, he sighed. It’s my fault they don’t come around here anymore.

      Pitiful, pitiful, piped a voice from the top of the hay bales. The voice belonged to Ralph, the official barn cat. He was the only barn cat. He had added the official part himself. He jumped down the bales of hay like they were giant steps, and hopped onto the top board of Rugby’s stall. The pony looked up at his friend.

      Morning Ralph, Rugby said.

      Hold that thought. I think I missed a spot, Ralph said. He washed a back toe. I can’t start the day looking tacky.

      Ralph was a handsome cat, once. He was snow white with a raccoon-striped tail and a stripy patch over one eye. But at this point in his long career as a cat he was a little frayed along the edges: he had a torn ear, a little scar across his nose, his whiskers were a bit sparse and his fur had lost some of its shine, still, he carried his tail high as ever.

      Now where were we? Ralph asked as he looked down at the forlorn pony.

      I miss the children.

      Well, I miss them too, although, I could have done without being dressed in doll clothes. The pigs will never let me live that down.

      Sometimes, when I began to shrink, they did get a little heavy, Rugby said. I guess sometimes I got a little grumpy. If they’d come back now I would carry them all day and never complain.

      Rugs, said Ralph, impatiently. I’ve told you a hundred times, you didn’t get smaller. They got bigger. That’s what kids do. Just like that flapdoodle dog. When they brought him home he was the same size as me. Now I can walk under him without hitting my head. Or…take mice. I know they’re growing mice bigger than they used to when I was young. I think it’s something in that corn they eat. They used to be smaller and much more afraid of me.

      I’m talking about the children?

      "Oh, yes. Kids grow up and get big. We’re not kids any more. We stay the same. Most things are bigger than me, but I don’t feel bad because I’ve got a job I can take pride in. That’s the difference between you and me.

      Their feet dragged the ground… Rugby said glumly.

      Don’t change the subject, Ralph said. Your problem is you’ve got nothing to do all day but talk to the June bugs. All that standing around is turning you into a sorry-for-yourself plump-waddle. We’ve got to find you something to do. A job, that’s what you need. Nothing will pull you out of the mugwumps like a job well done.

      A job, Rugby said. What kind of job could I do?

      What kind of job? Well, something horsey. Once in my travels to the big city I saw a policeman riding a horse. That horse looked very proud. Ralph looked at Rugby and tried to picture him as a police horse. He shook his head. He‘d never seen a policeman that small. No, that probably wouldn’t be the right job for you. Ralph’s face brightened as he had an idea. I’ve heard some horses chase cows around all day. That sounds easy enough. Kind of like chasing mice, not that chasing mice is easy. And I don’t think you actually want to catch the cows.

      Cows, Rugby said. You mean like those huge black and white cows across the road?

      Those are cows.

      Couldn’t we start with something a little smaller, like mice? I know. I could help you catch mice. You could show me how.

      I work alone. Besides you don’t have any gear. Nowadays, with the way mice are, you have to have gear.

      I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the gear, anyway?

      Gear is what you put on to protect yourself. It’s mouse-battling armor. When we start getting into our dignified years, we can’t be too careful.

      You mean old.

      Old is a very strong word for it, Ralph hissed. I consider myself a modern, whiskers-back, tail up kind of cat. And if you call me old again you’ll see the business end of a very effective, time-tested, mouse-catching tool, the paw! I use it for fishing, mouseing, catching moles; I can dig a little hole, knock a grasshopper out of the air, defend the farm from strange cats, and wash my face after dinner with it. It’s what makes a cat, a cat. The point is, as long as my paws hold up, I’m not old!

      Okay, okay, said Rugby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you old. I’m no spring colt myself. We’ve just lived a long time.

      But Rugby was talking to himself because Ralph had gone to get the gear he had stashed in the weeds near the wood shed, and on his way past the junk pile he would look around for some gear that might fit Rugby. Ralph could never stay mad at anyone for long, especially his best friend. He even swapped stories with that flapdoodle dog when no one was looking.

      By midmorning, Rugby was out in the pasture nibbling a patch of tasty clover. He heard a strange sound coming from the barn. Pssst. Clank. He went closer to the barn, slightly afraid. Pssst. Clank. He peeked through the barn door. There stood Ralph, splendid in his mouse-catching armor. Covering his chest was a shiny pot pie tin. His body was covered with a three-pound coffee can. His

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