At first Larry simply ran in the direction of what he thought was home. It was easy. All they had to do was stay near the bluff’s edge until they came to a beach and then find the Don Valley Parkway. Curly huffed and puffed as he ran up behind him. “You … must … slow … down,” Curly gasped. “Going too fast is how we got lost in the first place.” Larry stopped and looked back at Curly. He had a hurt look on his face. “I didn’t mean to get us lost. It was an accident.” Small tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, making the fur on his neck beneath the ribbon and bell slightly damp. Curly saw how truly scared Larry was and remembered that sometimes worry can be calmed by a hug. He leaned into Larry and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean to get us lost. We’ve both made mistakes. For instance, asking pigeons for directions is something I will never do again. But we’re in this together, and now that we are (hopefully) heading towards home, we must be careful, take our time, use our eyes and ears and be aware.” Larry felt slightly comforted. He looked up and said, “There’s a sign that I’ve been seeing which says … Waterfront Trail … and it has arrows. Do you think that could help us get to the water where the beach is?” Curly said, “I believe it might indeed.” And so the meerkats followed the signs as they walked through a neighbourhood called Birchcliff. The name made a lot of sense, well at least the last part, as many of the houses had yards that went right to the very edge of the cliff with stunning views of the lake, although there didn’t seem to be many birch trees on the properties. The meerkats had only walked a few kilometres when something went amok. Either there wasn’t a sign where there should have been a sign, or they missed the sign. Whatever happened, Larry & Curly wound up again on a busy road where the traffic thrummed and the cars beeped and honked and roared. It was a street that ran in the same direction as the way they had been going, but when they looked around, they could no longer see the cliff or the water. “When did we leave the edge of the cliff?” said Larry confused. Curly said, “I’m not honestly sure. I was paying attention to the houses and the signs and then the houses got closer together and I just assumed the cliff was behind them, and now … well, here we are at a busy street again.” “Look! Over there,” cried Larry. Larry pointed to an immense swath of orange, yellow and green with the largest butterfly he had ever seen, and beside it, an enormous bumblebee.
“We could ask the butterfly and the bee where to go,” said Larry. And so Curly and Larry sauntered up towards them and got up on a box so they could be closer to the insects and speak to them more clearly. “Hello butterfly,” said Larry, trying to act as if they weren’t lost. “We’re looking to get to the beach near the lake. Can you help us?” But the butterfly said nothing. Curly said, “I say Mr. Bee, would you BEE so kind as to tell us how to get to the beach near the lake?” Larry was impressed with Curly’s witty use of the word ‘bee’ in his question, but it didn’t make any difference whatsoever. The bee said nothing. Larry moved closer to the butterfly, and it was then that he realized it wasn’t moving. And Curly noticed that the Bumblebee wasn’t buzzing and his wings weren’t moving. “I knew it was too good to be true,” said Curly. “Well, they look very real,” said Larry. “Yes, but we should have suspected they were paintings, I mean, the butterfly is bigger than both of us combined,” said Curly. As they got down off the box, feeling like they would never find the lake, Larry saw a different sign on a post on the corner. “Look!” he said excitedly. “It says BEECH. That road must go towards the lake.” Curly looked confused. Larry said, “Where there’s a lake, that’s where we’ll find the beach. Obviously someone has spelled it wrong on the sign. That is the way we must go. I feel it in my bones. You have to trust me on this.” Curly knew that streets in a given area are named after something similar and start with similar letters. For instance Birchcliff started with a B and had the name of a tree in the name … as did Beech, which also started with a B, and was not actually named for the sandy bit of land next to a large body of water. But the road seemed to go in the direction Curly thought they needed to go, and he worried that if he didn’t trust Larry’s instinct, that Larry might feel upset, and who knows … maybe someone HAD spelled beach incorrectly on the sign. They hadn’t gone far when they saw another sign showing that there was a trail ahead. “This must be the way!” Larry said. The sign had an arrow that pointed down a set of stairs that went into a deep ravine filled with tall trees. Curly wasn’t fully convinced, but he was thirsty and in the distance, he could hear the trickle of water. After a long day of walking in the sun, the shade of the trees was appealing. And so they made their way down, down, down to the bottom of the stairs.
For the most part, the ravine was pleasant. It had a wide gravelled path with a fence that ran along one side. And in time, they came to a lovely board walk that wound its way through the trees. “I’m not sure if we’re going the right way, but this certainly is pretty,” said Curly. And as they got to the end of the boardwalk, Larry said, “What’s that … over there … just a little bit off of the path?” Larry pointed to a structure, just barely visible from the path. It was a strange small hut made of sticks. It wasn’t obvious to the naked eye unless you really stopped to look. Perhaps it was built by a group of children. Perhaps it was built by a witch in the woods. Or perhaps it had been built by someone else, lost far from home, who had needed shelter. The most important thing was that it was mottled with sunlight and was close to the stream. Curly said, “Perhaps we could just take a quick look. After all, I’m thirsty, and the stream is filled with clear cool water. And who knows … if we don’t get home tonight, it may serve as a suitable place to stay.” Larry said, “Nonsense … we WILL get home tonight. I know it. We are on our way to the beach, even if someone spelled it wrong on the sign. And once we get to the beach we will follow the lake to the Don Valley Parkway and walk home.” And so the two meerkats crept carefully forward. They stopped for a quick drink from the stream. The water was cool and comforting. Then they made their way towards the small hut. It had a nice open space with a log in the centre to sit on. The doorway faced away from the path and looked out on the water gently flowing along the ravine floor. “Perhaps we will just sit here for a moment,” said Curly. “It would be nice to get off of our feet,” said Larry.
And as they sat on the log in the centre, they started to feel sleepy, for the air was humid and warm, and the ground was soft, and the log was smooth, and the leaves above rustled with a light wind that whispered a gentle and soothing shhhhhhhhhhhh sound, accompanied by the burbleburbleburble of the stream. And soon the two meerkats were curled up … sound asleep. And that is where they stayed for a good long time. And when they woke up … they made a rather disturbing discovery … but that, dear reader, is a story for another day.
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Fenton & White 