without Houseplant . I think that was when I began to envy the simple problems faced by our man in the rowboat . No, wait— it was when I began to hear the menacing pitter-patter of Outfox feet; only a little ways further down the corridor from us, I guessed. Yes, that’s when I began to envy that guy. Partly because we’re never told why he needed to cross the river, but it’s a pretty safe guess that nobody crosses a river five times if something wicked-hungry this way comes. I stepped around Space-Giraffe’s cage and grabbed Houseplant’s box. “Keener, come!” I hissed, and darted back the way we’d come, with Keener happily keeping up and— please, God, for I didn’t dare stop to look back, everyone knows Outfoxes run faster if they see you looking over your shoulder!—Space-Giraffe hopefully right on our tails, now that I had his food/friend/decor in hand. Lady, I’ve heard the stories of road-trip vacations from before the Deathof-Earth: cramming the station-wagons and the crossover-vehicles full, to take everything a family might need. I can promise you that few of them were packed as tightly, or as quickly, as I packed my family into my crossover vehicle today. Unlike our man’s rowboat , there was room here for me and more than one item at a time, but not much more: never mind that the feedbags seemed to take up half the space in the shuttle, everybody pile in! Make sure everybody ’s compatible, and keep them away from their comestibles. Keep the Space-Giraffe just close enough and not too close to Houseplant , keep Keener away from both the puppy-kibble and SpaceGiraffe, just to be safe; now everybody exhale, slam the hatch and lock it tight! Not just to keep out any influxes of Outfoxes, but because the airlock’s opening— and here comes the river. Again, that rowboat guy had it easy. My river isn’t like his; it’s a black vacuum, deathly cold. But it was warm and cozy inside the shuttle—maybe a little too cozy. And Keener, being an Outfox, whined and pawed at the porthole, wanting what all Outfoxes want: to go out , unless they ’re already out , at which point they want to be Infoxes, indoors. And I remember thinking, if the Outfoxes back on their ship get a clean shot at us, there will be a draft in here, and it will get cold in a hurry, and Keener will get to go outside after all but he won’t be very happy about it then! But as Outfox ships are accustomed to hunting in packs, they missed their chance, and by the time they were ready to come after us we were home and piling back out of the rowboat and getting away safely before they could call for help in the hunt . Or maybe I should say, we were trying to pile out; because Space-Giraffe, what with being all folded and smushed around on the trip across the river, and having one of his legs lightly nibbled on despite my best efforts, well, by the time I got him un-origamied and out of the shuttle, I’m pretty sure some of his plaidflannel folds are creased in different places than where they were before, though he doesn’t seem bothered at all. Far from it , Lady: He had a snack in the Willow Cabin, while Keener gobbled his new kibble and I made sure the Outfoxes weren’t tracking us, then settled down for a nap. But now he’s awake and nuzzling his way around my desk, trying to get to Houseplant , and I can hear Keener starting to gnaw on something. So I suppose it’s time to end this entry and take them both for a walk in the Cabin. But I’ll steer clear of the stream. I’ve had enough crossings for one day.
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