Dear Pearl,

Mrs Highbottom has just left after spending the afternoon with us.  It was a very long afternoon as she had brought her granddaughter Paisley who lives life at a VERY HIGH VOLUME.  Louise finally silenced the child by creeping up on her wearing that old pig mask you left behind. 

As Linguini carried Her Limpness to the Highbottom Packard he was heard to mutter obsequies to George B for procuring the damn thing back in '29.

I Remain As Always,
Your Devoted Miss Blue

Small Trot just stopped by from her daily Tap and Toe and Ballet classes, a happy but strenuous morning. She wanted to discuss her coming journey to visit Pog there at Fanny's house. He has sent her a glowing report of his new quarters--a lovely round glass house with green and blue curtains all around for privacy sewed by Louise from a lovely Easter Dress that Fanny wore for her Song Recital singing the sad little song Brown Bird. Very beautiful, Miss Blue, and now worn out from so many wearings and washings.  Pog says the green is like the grass and the blue like the sky. So he is very happy with Fanny's family. I am finally convinced, Miss Blue, that the glass fish bowl is the most ideal home for Pog.

Small Trot is so excited about the visit, especially she is so looking forward to seeing you once more, her most kind and loving friend.

Sending the Brown Bird winging to you, Pearl

As for moving him under the stairs?  Well there are problems with that, too.  Remember The Borrowers? Though they WERE quite cunning and very clever about recycling thread spools and matchboxes. . . Ahead of their times you could say.

I Remain Your Devoted Miss Blue

Oh dear, Pearl.  It must have been your mention of the little underwater castles that has made Pog so, well, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table-ish?  Or was it the flour label?

I Remain, 
Your Devoted Miss Blue

I am alarmed, Miss Blue.  Surely you must know that Pog has never liked living quarters missing square corners!  Why, just the other day, Pog slipped and took a nasty fall when he wasn't sure where to turn because there were no square corners to direct him.  However, I suppose it is possible that the fishbowl Louise has offered Pog is square and not round?

We had only round Fish Bowls growing up, they were so much more elegant in their roundness, the gold fish never were in danger of being injured by the square corners and lived very happy long lives in among the little clay castles and floating greenery supplied by the stores that sold aquatic type things. 

I hope I have guided Louise away from the bowl and toward a more suitable home. Possibly a small nook and cranny under the stairs near the kitchen where Pod will find many crumbs of bread and crackers and little crumbles of cheese for his supper. Nice for entertaining, too, when Small Trot comes calling. Please offer my suggestions to Louise, Miss Blue, and tell her to be sure to keep a small bowl of lemon flavored ice water for Pog. He loves lemons and I have known him to bite on the lemon peel, so Louise might toss a nice sliver of lemon peel into the ice water.  Small Trot has been asking about Pog and plans on a visit this very day. That is what she told me.

Must close for now, Pearl

Snowy Morning November 23, 2012

Dearest Pearl,

It is lovely having Pog live with us.  Fanny has turned over the entire fish bowl to his living quarters.  The fish are gone, of course, so the bowl is quite light and airy.  Louise is making tiny curtains to give him some privacy when he requires it.  He is a wonderful companion for being so small and has an outsized collection of stories and images from the early days of our friendship.  Just yesterday he reminded us of the story of Squanto, the Indian boy who was a friend to the Pilgrims at the first Thanksgiving.  Our little friend Erik had a book about it all.  Was it Maude who gave it to him?

I Remain As Always, 

Your Devoted Miss Blue

Pog and Small Trot Together

From the Romantic Movie Smallish

Just around the corner
I will find you
Here in this City of Lights
Paris it is called

There you are
in plain view
But when you have escaped
My view
Will I ever find you again.

Small Trot,

The picture you have drawn of you, with suitcase, looking side to side, far and wide, to find me. That is an image from the most romantic movie, Smallish.  I have never lost sight of you, although I have often been out of view. I think we might write a song about that.  

Fondly, Pog

Dear Friend Pog,

Well, I am back in the States after living aboard, yes,Pog aboard, even though I always said I wouldn’t move even an inch from the old neighborhood there near Worm Park. You must have heard me say that a million times. We seem to have returned to our old neighborhoods at the very same time - always the most satisfying place to be. You have the beautiful sound of church bells; oh, how I wish the little church around the corner would play their bells! I was told that the tone of of bells was tinny and so new bells are being considered. Thank goodness!

You must be wondering where and what I found so heavenly about being abroad to leave so abruptly. Why, Pog, I was looking for you! The postman delivered a letter from you postmarked Paris, France, and I was alarmed at the quickness of your leaving so I immediately packed my smallest suitcase - with just an extra ballerina suit and my best ballet shoes - and hurried off to the airport. I stayed three years, Pog, forever looking this way and that for the sight of my dear friend, Pagliacci. Dancing gracefully and always with the best toe-pointing and with smiling eyes toward the customers in the restaurants; small pittance, surely, but enough to buy my croissants and bits of cheese. Then one morning, early, I counted the coins in my small purse and found that I had just the right amount to purchase a ticket back to the States and that is what I did. The right thing to do, for you had also arrived back in the States!

I can hardly wait to see you, Pog, tomorrow, maybe. With a chilled glass of Drambuie to toast our happy reunion.

Love forever,
Small Trot

Dear Small Trot,

You are the only one who ever called me Pog, dearest friend.  And I have missed you these last few years.  I am living north of your city - in a neighborhood where church bells ring out on Sunday mornings and the park at the end of the block was nicknamed Worm Park by the children who used to live here because when it rained the little stone ponds would be flooded and suddenly full of the slumbering worms living in the channels that filled them. The church bell ringing is fine with me.  I am a light sleeper as you recall.  But also a lover of all beautiful sounds.  Speaking of which, do you still sing? 

Your Own Dear Pog