Speaker 1: Welcome to Bedtime Stories for grown ups in which nothing
Speaker 1: much happens, You feel good, and then you fall asleep.
Speaker 1: I'm Catherine Nikolay. I write and read all the stories
Speaker 1: you hear on Nothing Much Happens with audio engineering by
Speaker 1: Bob Whitersheim. You can hear bonus and add free episodes
Speaker 1: of this podcast by subscribing to our Premium or Premium
Speaker 1: Plus feeds. Learn more at Nothing Much Happens dot com.
Speaker 1: Has this sever happened to you? You're in bed reading
Speaker 1: your book and may be even scrunched up in a
Speaker 1: not so comfortable position, but you can't keep your eyes open.
Speaker 1: Then you turn off the light, get as snug as possible,
Speaker 1: and suddenly you can't sleep. What happened in those few
Speaker 1: seconds is that your brain switched from task mode to
Speaker 1: default mode. It's pretty tricky to fall asleep in default mode,
Speaker 1: and that's why I have a story to tell you.
Speaker 1: I'll tell your story twice, and I'll go a bit
Speaker 1: slower the second time through. If you wake in the
Speaker 1: middle of the night and feel your brain starting to
Speaker 1: power back up, you could listen again or just think
Speaker 1: through any parts of the story that you can remember
Speaker 1: with time. This wall. Become more automatic, and you'll notice
Speaker 1: your sleep improving more and more. Now it's time to
Speaker 1: get comfortable. Switch off your light, snuggle your body down
Speaker 1: into the sheets, and feel how good it is to
Speaker 1: be in bed. Let my voice be a sort of guardian.
Speaker 1: I'm taking the next watch, so you can let go.
Speaker 1: Let's take a deep breath, in through the nose and
Speaker 1: out through the mouth. Nice. Let's do that one more time,
Speaker 1: in and out. Good. Our story tonight is called Marmalade
Speaker 1: and Crumb, and it's a story about a face looking
Speaker 1: up at you from a newspaper. It's also about a
Speaker 1: new collar and leash, a first meeting that feels like
Speaker 1: a reunion, and trusting your heart when it steers you
Speaker 1: in a direction you didn't expect. Marmalade and Crumb, we'd
Speaker 1: seen his picture in the paper. Marmalade and I had
Speaker 1: been flipping through the pages and the couch I was reading,
Speaker 1: and she was swatting at the edges of the paper.
Speaker 1: I realized, as I watched her trying to clamp her
Speaker 1: paw over the weather report, that she must be almost
Speaker 1: a year old by now. We'd found each other the
Speaker 1: year before, on the first snowfall of the year, and
Speaker 1: the vet said she was likely two months old. Then
Speaker 1: I reached out to scratch her ears. Her collar felt
Speaker 1: a bit small around her neck. She was growing fast.
Speaker 1: The back door was opened beside us, and a breeze
Speaker 1: rose up. All of a sudden, the paper in my
Speaker 1: lap danced in the wind, the pages flipping and fluttering.
Speaker 1: Marmalade pounced on them gleefully, and I laughed, tugging it
Speaker 1: away from her as she chased. When I finally got
Speaker 1: it back, she'd torn out a scrap that clung to
Speaker 1: one claw. She shook it in the air, a confused
Speaker 1: look on her face, and I laughed again as I
Speaker 1: reached out to carefully detangle it. That's when we saw him.
Speaker 1: His face looked up at us from the torn scrap
Speaker 1: of paper, A little brown dog with wiry hair and
Speaker 1: stilty legs. He looked like his whole body what bounces
Speaker 1: when he barked. He looked like he was ready for
Speaker 1: an adventure. He looked like he would carry a stick
Speaker 1: twice his size for blocks, and never stopped wagging his tail.
Speaker 1: I fitted the torn piece back into the paper, reading
Speaker 1: that he was too of indeterminate breed looking for a
Speaker 1: family and named Crumb since he was many shades of
Speaker 1: brown and his wiry hair stood out all over, making
Speaker 1: him look a bit crunchy. The paper said he would
Speaker 1: be at the pet store downtown with his fellow adoptees
Speaker 1: all day to day if anyone was interested in meeting him.
Speaker 1: I looked at Marmalade. She looked at me. We both
Speaker 1: looked down at Crumb. I bit my lip, thinking of
Speaker 1: how Marmee loved to jump at toast when it came
Speaker 1: popping out of the toaster, how our mornings had already
Speaker 1: ben full of crumbs, and couldn't we make room for
Speaker 1: just one more? I pulled her into my lap and
Speaker 1: thought again that her collar was a bit tight. I
Speaker 1: needed to go to the pet store anyway to pick
Speaker 1: out a new one for her. What would be the
Speaker 1: harm and stopping to shake paws with Crumb while I
Speaker 1: was there? Driving over, I had butterflies in my stomach
Speaker 1: and drummed my fingers on the wheel, impatient for the
Speaker 1: lights to change and traffic to move. I think I
Speaker 1: knew already, probably had as soon as I'd seen his
Speaker 1: little face with the light brown dots in his eyebrows
Speaker 1: and his scraggly whiskers and funny snaggletooth that it was
Speaker 1: already a done deal. I knew that Marmalade liked dogs
Speaker 1: in general. She had a giant greyhound friend who she'd
Speaker 1: played and snuggled with since she was a kitten, and
Speaker 1: had met a few others, all with good results. She
Speaker 1: liked to play, and older dogs seemed happy to let her.
Speaker 1: She'd chased their tails or pounce on them when they slept,
Speaker 1: and they often barely opened one eye to watch her do.
Speaker 1: A young dogs played right along with her, and she
Speaker 1: liked that as well. She'd outsmarted my brother's bassett hound,
Speaker 1: reaching one sly orange rippled paw out from under the
Speaker 1: sofa to swipe his toys while he looked the other way,
Speaker 1: and had been well pleased with herself afterward. When I
Speaker 1: pulled up to the shop, I saw signs for the
Speaker 1: rescue that was holding the adoption fare posted at the street,
Speaker 1: and counted the cars in the parking spots, worried that
Speaker 1: I might already be too late. What if Crumb had
Speaker 1: gone home with somebody else. I remembered feeling the same
Speaker 1: way that day I had first seen Marmee's pawprints in
Speaker 1: the snow. Not possessive, but surely protective. I hadn't wanted
Speaker 1: to stand in the way of someone else's feline love connection.
Speaker 1: But I had simply felt, down deep in my bones
Speaker 1: that the lever of those little prints was already my cat.
Speaker 1: And when I opened the door to find her waiting
Speaker 1: on the step, it was a family reunion. I tried
Speaker 1: not to get ahead of myself with Crumb, but the
Speaker 1: feeling was the same if someone else had filled out
Speaker 1: an application for him. Well, it was understandable, but it
Speaker 1: was simply a mistake. I stepped inside and pretended I
Speaker 1: was going to get the collar first. I even made
Speaker 1: it half way down an aisle, but then took a
Speaker 1: quick turn and headed toward the back, where I could
Speaker 1: hear a few barks and bays. There were volunteers in
Speaker 1: yellow t shirts, a few kiddies and carriers, and a
Speaker 1: playpen full of puppies. A couple of people were bending
Speaker 1: over them with clipboards in their hands, clearly ready to adopt.
Speaker 1: My eyes went searching for Crumb. Most of the crates
Speaker 1: were already empty, their occupants having found their people. I'm
Speaker 1: gone home. I squatted down beside a crate with his
Speaker 1: name hand printed on a tag and peered in, but
Speaker 1: there was no crumb inside. I let out a sigh
Speaker 1: and bit my lip again. Oh well, I started to
Speaker 1: say to myself, maybe it wasn't meant to be, but
Speaker 1: I didn't believe it. I pushed my palm against my thigh,
Speaker 1: easing my body up from the floor and hoping wherever
Speaker 1: he was he was happy and safe. And I saw him.
Speaker 1: He was sitting in the lap of one of the volunteers,
Speaker 1: getting petted and looking straight at me, wagging his tail
Speaker 1: like he'd been waiting all day for me to show up.
Speaker 1: I sat down in the folding chair beside him, and
Speaker 1: he jumped from his foster's lap straight into mine. She laughed,
Speaker 1: handing me over his leash and saying, let me introduce you.
Speaker 1: This is Crumb. I finished, smiling up at her. We
Speaker 1: saw him in the paper. All good, she said. He
Speaker 1: hasn't had any visitors yet today, so he was feeling
Speaker 1: a bit left out. I scratched his ears and leaned
Speaker 1: into me, tilting his cheek up and letting me get
Speaker 1: under his chin with my fingernails. One back leg began
Speaker 1: thumping away as I scratched, and I was laughing again.
Speaker 1: He was little, like a heavy loaf of bread, and
Speaker 1: his weight felt good in my arms. He had pale
Speaker 1: hazel eyes and a stout small body, and did indeed
Speaker 1: bounce when he barked. He let me toss a squeaky
Speaker 1: ball for him when he chased down and brought back
Speaker 1: to me for more. I thought he would be a
Speaker 1: perfect match from Marmie. They could hide each other's toys
Speaker 1: and fight over who got witch bed by the fire
Speaker 1: this winter. He hopped back up into my lap and
Speaker 1: laid down his paws, hanging off my leg and panting
Speaker 1: a little. He rested his chin on his paws and
Speaker 1: was instantly relaxed. My heart was brimming, and as I
Speaker 1: stroked his back, I was already thinking about what color
Speaker 1: collar to get him. Would he need a sweater for
Speaker 1: the cool weather, his own set of dishes, and a bed,
Speaker 1: of course. The volunteer who had been watching us held
Speaker 1: out a clipboard with his name across the top and
Speaker 1: raised her eyebrows. I slipped the handle of his leash
Speaker 1: over my wrist so he couldn't get away from me.
Speaker 1: As I reached out for it. We would be a
Speaker 1: family of three, Marmalade and Crumb. We'd seen his picture
Speaker 1: in the paper. Marmalade and I had been flipping through
Speaker 1: the pages on the couch I was reading, and she
Speaker 1: was swatting at the edges of the paper. I realized,
Speaker 1: as I watched her trying to clamp her paw over
Speaker 1: the weather report that she must be almost a year
Speaker 1: old by now. We'd found each other the year before
Speaker 1: on the first snowfall of the year, and the vet
Speaker 1: said she was likely two months old. Then I reached
Speaker 1: out to scratch around her ears. Her collar felt a
Speaker 1: bit small around her neck. She was growing fast. The
Speaker 1: back door was open beside us, and the breeze rose up.
Speaker 1: All of a sudden, the paper in my lap danced
Speaker 1: in the wind, the pages flipping and fluttering. Marmalade pounced
Speaker 1: on them gleefully, and I laughed, tugging it away from
Speaker 1: her as she chased. When I finally got it back,
Speaker 1: she torn out a scrap that clung to one claw.
Speaker 1: She shook it in the air, a confused look on
Speaker 1: her face, and I laughed again as I reached out
Speaker 1: to carefully to tangle it. That's when we saw him.
Speaker 1: His face looked up at us from the torn piece
Speaker 1: of paper, a little brown dog with wiry hair and
Speaker 1: stilty legs. He looked like his whole body would bounce
Speaker 1: when he barked. He looked like he was ready for
Speaker 1: an adventure. He looked like he would carry a stick
Speaker 1: twice his size for blocks and never stop wagging his tail.
Speaker 1: I fitted the torn piece back into the paper, reading
Speaker 1: that he was too of indeterminate breed looking for a family,
Speaker 1: and named Crumb, since he was many shades of brown
Speaker 1: and his wiry hair stood out all over, making him
Speaker 1: look a bit crunchy. The paper said that he would
Speaker 1: be at the pet store downtown with his fellow adoptees
Speaker 1: all day to day if anyone was interested in meeting him.
Speaker 1: I looked at Marmalade. She looked at me. We both
Speaker 1: looked down at Crumb. I bit my lip, thinking of
Speaker 1: how Marmie loved to jump at toast when it came
Speaker 1: popping out of the toaster, how our mornings had already
Speaker 1: been full of crumbs, and couldn't we make room for
Speaker 1: just one more. I pulled her into my lap and
Speaker 1: thought again that her collar was a bit tight I
Speaker 1: needed to go to the pet store anyway to pick
Speaker 1: out a new one for her. What would be the
Speaker 1: harm and stopping to shake paws with crumb while I
Speaker 1: was there. Driving over, I had butterflies in my stomach
Speaker 1: and drummed my fingers on the wheel, impatient for the
Speaker 1: lights to change and traffic to move. I think I
Speaker 1: knew already, probably had as soon as I had seen
Speaker 1: his little face, with the light brown dots in his
Speaker 1: eyebrows and his scraggly whiskers and bunny snaggletooth, that it
Speaker 1: was already a done deal. I knew that Marmalade liked
Speaker 1: dogs in general. She had a giant greyhound friend who
Speaker 1: she'd played and snuggled with since she was a kitten,
Speaker 1: and had met a few others, all with good results.
Speaker 1: She liked to play, and older dogs seemed happy to
Speaker 1: let her. She'd chase their tails or pounce on them
Speaker 1: while they slept, and they often barely opened one eye
Speaker 1: to watch her do it. Young dogs played right along
Speaker 1: with her, and she liked that as well. She'd outsmarted
Speaker 1: my brother's basset hound, reaching one sly orange rippled paw
Speaker 1: out from under the sofa to swipe his toys while
Speaker 1: he looked the other way, and had been well pleased
Speaker 1: with herself afterwards. When I pulled up to the shop,
Speaker 1: I saw signs for the rescue that was holding the
Speaker 1: adoption fare posted at the street, and counted the cars
Speaker 1: in the parking spots, worried that I might already be
Speaker 1: too late. What if Crumb had gone home with somebody else.
Speaker 1: I remembered feeling the same way the day I had
Speaker 1: first seen Marmee's paw prints in the snow. Not possessive
Speaker 1: but surely protective. I hadn't wanted to stand in the
Speaker 1: way of someone else's feline love connection, but I had
Speaker 1: simply felt, down deep in my bones that the lever
Speaker 1: of those little prints was already my cat. And when
Speaker 1: I opened the door to find her waiting on the step,
Speaker 1: it was a family reunion. I tried not to get
Speaker 1: ahead of myself with Crumb, but the feeling was the same.
Speaker 1: If someone else had filled out an application for him, well,
Speaker 1: it was understandable, but it was simply a mistake. I
Speaker 1: stepped inside and pretended I was going to get the
Speaker 1: collar first. I even made it halfway down and all
Speaker 1: but then took a quick turn and headed toward the back,
Speaker 1: where I could hear a few barks and bays. There
Speaker 1: were volunteers in yellow t shirts, a few kiddies and carriers,
Speaker 1: and a playpen full of puppies. A couple of people
Speaker 1: were bending over them with clipboards in their hands, clearly
Speaker 1: ready to adopt. My eyes went searching for crumb. Most
Speaker 1: of the crates were already empty, their occupants having found
Speaker 1: their people and gone home. I squatted down beside a
Speaker 1: crate with his name hand printed on a tag and
Speaker 1: peered in, but there was no crumb inside. I let
Speaker 1: out a sigh, bit my lip again. Well, I started
Speaker 1: to say to myself, maybe it wasn't meant to be,
Speaker 1: but I didn't believe it. I pushed my palm against
Speaker 1: my thigh, easing my body up from the floor and
Speaker 1: hoping that wherever he was, he was happy and say.
Speaker 1: And then I saw him. He was sitting in the
Speaker 1: lap of one of the volunteers, getting petted and looking
Speaker 1: straight at me, wagging his tail like he'd been waiting
Speaker 1: all day for me to show up. I sat down
Speaker 1: in the folding chair beside him, and he jumped from
Speaker 1: his foster's lap straight into mine. She laughed, handing me
Speaker 1: over his leash and saying, let me introduce you. This
Speaker 1: is Crumb. I finished, smiling up at her. We saw
Speaker 1: him in the paper. Oh good, she said. He hasn't
Speaker 1: had any visitors yet today, so he was feeling a
Speaker 1: bit left out. I scratched his ears, and he leaned
Speaker 1: into me, tilting his cheek up and letting me get
Speaker 1: under his chin with my finger nails. One back leg
Speaker 1: began thumping away as I scratched, and I was laughing again.
Speaker 1: He was little, like a heavy loaf of bread, and
Speaker 1: his weight felt good in my arms. He had pale
Speaker 1: hazel eyes and a stout small body, and did indeed
Speaker 1: bounce when he barked. He let me toss a squeaky
Speaker 1: ball for him, which he chased down and brought back
Speaker 1: to me for more. I thought he would be the
Speaker 1: perfect match for Marmee. They could hide each other's toys
Speaker 1: and fight over who got which bed by the fire
Speaker 1: this winter. He hopped back up into my lap and
Speaker 1: laid down his paws, hanging off my leg and panting
Speaker 1: a little. He rested his chin on his paws and
Speaker 1: was instantly relaxed. My heart was brimming, and as I
Speaker 1: stroked his back, I was already thinking about what color
Speaker 1: collar to get him. Would he need a sweater for
Speaker 1: the cool weather, his own set of dishes, and a bed,
Speaker 1: of course. The volunteer who had been watching held out
Speaker 1: a clipboard with his name across the top and raised
Speaker 1: her eyebrows. I slipped the handle of his leash over
Speaker 1: my wrist so he couldn't get away from me as
Speaker 1: I reached out for it. We would be a family
Speaker 1: of three sweet dreams.