CRANKY - by Christine Eagon

It’s a chilly morning in my drafty shack of a cabin in the hamlet North Oyster, British Columbia. I want a hot cup of tea. I need to start a fire in my cast iron cook stove. I shovel out last night’s cold coals into a bucket. Next I crumple paper, top it with several pieces of cedar kindling, add a couple small sticks of firewood, and light a match. I listen to the roar of the flames and stoke up the fire.  The stove top clicks as the metal plates expand. Minutes pass until the fresh well water in my kettle comes to a boil. A splash of hot water goes in to warm the Brown Betty tea pot. I dump it out, then add three generous spoons of loose leaf breakfast tea and fill with boiling water. While it steeps, I explain to my tuxedo cat “Sylvester, this is how to make a proper pot of tea. And when it’s ready to pour, milk goes into the cup first.” I note the dwindling stack of firewood outside, then settle down into my comfy chair with my cup of tea. Sylvester hops up to snuggle on my lap. We enjoy the warmth from the cook stove and our peaceful morning together. “Good kitty.”

Moments later the wall boards start to creak and my unlocked window partially opens on its rusty hinges. I see a giant brown eye looking at me, then a complete horse head as the window fully opens. It is Cranky, the statuesque Clydesdale matriarch. She’s just slurped gallons of rainwater from the collection trough, an old claw foot bath tub out back. Afterwards she uses the cabin as her scratching post. She must weigh at least 2,000 pounds. The house rocks back and forth and boards creak again. At my window, she sniffs toward my larder indicating her desire for carrots. She snorts and waits for her sweet veggie treat. I reach for a small bag of carrots and consider what is on my mind this morning. This is our morning ritual, and Cranky is a patient listener as long as the carrots last.

I open the conversation. “Cranky, I need to find a boyfriend! What am I gonna do? It’s going to be winter soon and I’m feeling lonely here. You have your handsome stallion Laddie to spend winter nights with. I want a hot boyfriend for the cold nights.”

“Dear Cranky, you are good company and I love it when you and the other horses gallop down here from the upper pasture. But I’m becoming weary of mucking out your stable in exchange for living here. I need a paying job.”

I listen to her crunching and munching, while watching the carrots disappear.

“Cranky, are you using me or are we friends? What can I learn from you, old gal? Hell, I have to hitchhike into town or walk across the big muddy field to get carrots from Bill and Mary’s little store. Sometimes I am chased by big aggressive guard geese. On the way back I tread lightly as I pass the stable so you won’t smell the cargo of carrots and try to steal them. I know you love carrots. And I love our chats.” She looks at me and nods her great head.

I sigh, knowing I’ll have to look for a job. And with a little luck, a boyfriend will appear.

“Thanks, Cranky, I’ll keep the carrots coming.”