“Welcome to my treehouse. What can I get for you?” the elf asked his feline friend as Rufus hopped on Twinkle’s favorite chair. Twinkle tried his best not to look annoyed as the bobcat began scratching the fabric on the cushions prior to settling in.
“A little snack would be nice,” the bobcat said. “I could go for some fresh chipmunk.”
“I just ran out of chipmunk, I’m afraid, but I do have some tasty cream. Would you like a saucer?”
“That’ll do, if it’s all you’ve got,” said Rufus, attempting to act disappointed and failing. Both of them knew of Rufus’ intense fondness for fresh cream.
The elf nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie while his friend lapped up every drop of the cream. They spent the little while enjoying their treats in contented silence. Eventually Twinkle put up the dishes while the bobcat groomed himself as he purred in self-centered satisfaction.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit,” the elf asked, finally getting down to business.
“Can’t an old friend just stop by to spend quality time with another old friend,” Rufus growled in reply.
“I suppose,” Twinkle mused, “but I can’t remember a time when you ever came to my tree without wanting something.”
“Hrumph,” groused the bobcat.
“So, fess up—why did you come to see me?” Twinkle asked.
“I need some advice,” replied Rufus.
“Oh, that’s great,” Twinkle said, clapping his hands in glee. “Giving advice is one of my favorite things to do. What’s the subject?”
“Girls,” the bobcat whispered.
“Girls?” Twinkle responded in surprise.
“Girls,” confirmed Rufus. “Well, girl bobcats anyway.”
“Okay, what seems to be the problem?”
“There’s this cute bobcat,” he began. “She lives on the other side of the ridge, several miles from Camp Fletcher, and her name is Manx. The thing is, I like Manx but she wants nothing to do with me. Every time I go to see her, she tells me I’m trespassing on her property. The last time I crossed over the ridge, she growled at me and she did this,” Rufus said, pointing to a scar next to his nose. “It’s a long way to go to get to the other side of the ridge,” Rufus complained. “And I’d rather not go to all of that trouble just to get clawed. Can you help me?”
“Hmmm, I think she may be trying to tell you something, Rufus. You might need to find yourself another girlfriend. After all, there are plenty of fish in the sea.”
“I don’t know anything about fish in the sea, Twinkle. I’ve never seen the sea. But I know that Manx is the only girl bobcat living anywhere near Camp Fletcher and she hates me,” Rufus wailed, and a bobcat’s wail is one of the most sorrowful sounds in the world.
“I have an idea,” Twinkle said, not really having an idea at all but very much wanting Rufus to quit his wailing. “I haven’t left the camp in a long time. How about I cross the ridge and pay a visit to Manx? Maybe she’ll be willing to talk to me.”
“You’d do that for me?” Rufus blurted. “Twinkle, you’re the best elf ever!”
Twinkle would have answered except the delighted bobcat immediately pounced on his friend, knocking him over. Rufus stood astride the elf with a paw firmly planted on each shoulder, and he licked Twinkle’s face with a sandpaper tongue that smelled of cream.