Milton Flufferbear Figures it Out

Present Day, Toadstool Toys, Bath, England

Milton Flufferbear was having a day. Correction, he was having twelve days, and they all looked and acted exactly alike. Not just similar, and not just nuanced-alike. But exactly alike. Right down to the same drips from the same honey pot on the same plate at the same time of day (well, Milton finally looked at the clock on Day 3 and knew something was up. He realized the timing was precisely the same each and every day. Each and every drip.). He had the same conversations with the same stuffed animal friends on the same shelves in the store. He played the same games – tiddlywinks and shuffleboard – at night and drank from the same cup (ewww) of hot chocolate every morning. Same paw, same raspberry scone (which he didn’t mind a bit since he loved raspberry scones). The animals had pancakes with the same-shaped (Santa Claus) whipped butter on top at the restaurant and had plum pudding and mince pie at night. Same everything. Except for one small thing.

 No, he did not mind the food. At all. He loved to eat. His idol was Paddington Bear, and, though Milton did not fancy marmalade, he loved toast. Toast with elderberry jam, that is. He loved his friends on the shelves. Loved Christmastime in the giant toy store (one you could easily roller-skate in, Milton mused, the store was that big!). But he wanted to be selected. He wanted a little girl or boy to pick him from the pack, Hug and love him. In a home. Furrever. Amidst all of the sameness, Milton tried desperately to stand out from the pack by positioning himself in different places each day. One day his paw was up, waving, by the candy counter. Another day, he jumped up on the Swiss chocolate display, behind the cranberry-nut bars, tipped his head toward the bars, but kept his eyes alert for passers-by. On yet another day, he even finagled his way onto a tableclothed, antique English walnut, Chippendale table before teatime, hoping that some diners might be encouraged to take him home after taking tea and having crumpets with the little brown bear. And one other positioning had him smack dab in the middle of the historical fiction table, hopeful someone might find the perfect, oh-so-fluffy bear to love, just as the person found the perfect book to read on long winter nights.

 No, to no avail on these ‘bear-rand’ re-positioning efforts (yes, after a month in the store, Milton had learned a thing or two about marketing but not enough yet to have his efforts bear fruit.).

After multiple days of saying, doing and eating the same things, playing the same games, and ‘bear-rand’ re-positioning, he awoke with an Epiphany. On Epiphany! He turned to his friends, Gracie, Grant and Golly (the three giraffe triplets who pretty much did everything together).

 “Guys, I have an idea! Can you please help me write a note? I know we all want homes, but I think my idea will help us all!”

 “What’s that Milton? How can we help?” Gracie asked. You see, the other animals were just as eager to be taken home and loved, too. It would be a win-win for all. They were in this together. Furr-riends Furrever, as the saying goes.

 “Well, this is my idea. We form a sort of slide-train. Giraffes, if you want to stand on the floor, all of us other kids can form a little train down and behind your backs. Then, we can put the note at the beginning of the train. We can even put that little toy candy drum over there by the chocolate stand at the end of our train as the caboose. What do you all think?”

 After a loud (well, loud for stuffed animals) and enthusiastic clapping of paws and general, animated chatter reflecting a true passion for Milton’s idea, it was down to business.

“What will the note say?” Golly queried.

“I’ll go get the crayons!” and with that, Grant was off and running to the art department to grab a package of the most colorful crayons he could find. And, because of his long neck, he could cajole a large pad of drawing paper from its hook above the Christmas picture books. He was back in a flash.

Eager to join in, Candy Llama Pajamas Llama (who was cuteness personified in her candy-cane-striped pajamas alone), Callie Kitty, Cindy Corgi, Rory Rabbit, and Lambie Lamb all dropped on paws and hooves to pick up a crayon each. The giraffes held the paper steady whilst Milton and his friends crayoned the notes and drew pictures: ‘Hello Friends,’ it read.

‘We are all looking for our Furrever Home.

Please pick us. All 2 Gether. Please!

We are all cute, and we love toast and jam! We love elderberry, but we are happy

With any jam. We are not picky. :)

We will love and hug you furrever!

Happy Christmas! Love, all of us Animals at Toadstool.’ :)

Colorful crayons were soon busily drawing some amusing pictures to convey their wishes, hopes and dreams…a home, a family, oatmeal, hot chocolate, a pot of jam, toast, tiddlywinks, shuffleboard, and, of all things, a train with animals inside, waving from the windows.

Just before doors were unlocked that next morning – the group of nine toddled to the tearoom and created their anticipated formation. Note proudly displayed at the helm of the ‘train,’ and all the animals lined up, paws and hooves waving, to potential tea-goers. Milton could not wait. He was certain his plan was going to work.

Teatime came, and an hour passed by. There was a lot of finger-pointing – in a good way – by workers and diners. The aromas were amazing, and the little animals were becoming hungry for food – and a home of their own. Milton was a little worried, but all animals assured each other all was not lost. “We are the Furrever Furr-riends! We are cute and worthy!” they all chanted in a whisper.

And, just like that, do you know who came in? A family with nine children! Nine children at teatime! Milton could not believe such a big family could even fit at a table, but the manager created a whole table just for them.

As the family were being seated, Milton noticed that he had made eye contact with the smallest of the children, a little girl whom he heard was called Polly. Polly kept looking over to him, and the parents had to re-focus her attention on the task at hand – which was teatime. Maybe the key decision-maker was not the parents at all, Milton thought. Maybe it had nothing to do with words on a page, or the right note, or the right positioning on a counter where parents and adults pay. Maybe it was a feeling, deep inside one’s heart, perfect eye contact from a little child, that made all the difference,

Milton did not want to get his hopes up, but he had a good feeling. He relayed his thoughts to the rest, and the rest of the animals had felt the same thing throughout the meal. It seemed an interminable age until the family finished their tea, sandwiches and scones. No one was walking in the animals’ direction. Until the mom arose from her chair, lifted Polly from her booster seat, took three other children (Milton guessed around 4 or 5 – he was developing an expertise in estimating ages in a toy store) by the hand. All walked in the direction of Milton and his friends.

“Mummy, Mummy, look!” one of the little girls pointed (in Milton’s and Callie’s direction). It is an animal train! And look, too! There are nine – just like us!”

“I see that dear. I see that.” Moments later, the family patriarch appeared with the other children alongside him. He was heading to pay their bill, but stopped alongside whom Milton guessed were his wife and the other five children.

“Charlotte, what have we here? Children, what is this?” The man seemed just as interested in the animal train as did his wife and the children.

All the children exclaimed in unison. “It’s a train! A train of the cutest animals ever! That would be so cute in our kitchen at teatime!”

“One for each of us!” Polly, the littlest. called out.

“Dears, my goodness, there surely are a lot of animals here! John, what do you think?” Charlotte leaned down to pick up the animals’ note and smiled. “Such lovely drawings! I wonder who made these?!” All the animals nudged their little paws and hooves upwards a smidge to wave – to which the entire family reacted with a melodic chuckle.

“Well, Charlotte, we do need some more whimsy in the household!” He winked at Charlotte and, then, winked again at the children.

“Please Daddy! Please Mummy!”

There was silence on the part of the family and a stressful moment amongst the animals as they waited with bated breath. Was today the day? Did all of their sameness bring them to this? Milton wondered. To a house surely filled with love and laughter and a different story every day!? Milton could feel it from his ears to his paws to his toes. The animals gave side-eye glances at each other and hoped. And prayed.

“Well, children...” This was it. Milton knew it!

“Children, you have been so good all year. I know we were in Switzerland for Daddy’s work this Christmas, so Santa was not able to deliver everything to our mountain home. He did mention he would be making a second delivery to our home here. But maybe…” Charlotte paused.

John finished the thought. “Maybe,” he said as he looked to his wife Charlotte and down at all of his nine children, “Perhaps, we can help Santa out a bit.” He turned to the maître d' of the tearoom. “We’ll take them, All.”

“Hooray! Clapped the children.

“Hooray!” clapped the animals.

And the most exciting thing happened just then. As the parents’ backs were turned to pay, all of the animals, one by one huddled around the children, hugging them and receiving hugs in return. When the parents looked back, they walked over to join in the joy. Everyone in the tearoom had come alive. Really come alive, and Milton Flufferbear and his furr-riends knew for certain they had all found their furrever, purrfect home.

The End