Yeller, so called because of her colouring, was fragile. She looked as if the slightest wind would pick her up and send her tumbling. Soon after her arrival in Avery Place she caught the eye of the handsome Horatio and despite a bit of an age gap, she being the elder, they became partners. Horatio made a good mate and father; he was reliable, strong and even tempered. It wasn't long before they had three sturdy youngsters, called Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday for the most obvious of reasons. In time Monday and Tuesday flew the nest but Wednesday, the youngest son, was a bit of a home bird. He stayed, became the millet spray of his mother's eye, and grew more like his father every day.

Eventually the day came when the only way to tell Horatio from Wednesday was a small white spot on the back of Wednesday's neck. Yeller was too small to see the back of Wednesday's neck. Perhaps that was why what happened happened¹. The only ones who knew for sure were Yeller herself and Wednesday. Possibly Horatio knew but he had an air of bemusement about him afterwards which suggested that he didn't.

Horatio had woken up one morning to find himself spurned, ousted, supplanted by Wednesday who shortly afterwards, to the shocked surprise of the Caretaker in charge of the Place, simultaneously became both brother and father to Yeller's second set of triplets; Thursday, Friday and Saturday, naturally². And simultaneously Yeller became a grandmother.

This final clutch of young ones took the last of Yeller's strength. She was too frail to take care of herself let alone the youngsters. Wednesday added the role of mother to that of father and brother. He raised them single handed until they, like their brother/uncle, sister/aunt before them, could spread their wings and leave to lead their own lives. Which they did, leaving Yeller and Wednesday to settle down peacefully together. Which they did.

As Yeller became frailer, Wednesday never left her. When she collapsed and the effort to get back home from an expedition for food was too much he would coax her to try. He'd go a little ahead and talk until she made the effort to reach him. He would encourage her with a peck on the cheek and move ahead again. Each time she'd get a little further until eventually she made it back. He never gave up on her and never left her.

And what of Horatio? Well, Horatio settled into a very comfortable bachelor twosome with Billy, who he befriended when young Billy was an outcast from society, (which is another story). They grew portly together in companionable contentedness.

And that's the three cornered tale of Yeller, Horatio and Wednesday.

And the moral is?

Well don't go looking at me... I don't know.

Ah yes, Billy... Billy was taken from his parents at a very young age. He grew up cared for but alone. He became excitable. He was nervously thin and by far too fond of his mirror.

One summer, his Carers went on holiday and did what to them seemed the obvious thing - they sent him to Avery Place, told him to make friends, told him to have fun and b*****d off. Just as if he was some kid who could be dumped in a holiday camp for the summer!

Poor Billy. He didn't know it was 'poor Billy' though. Not to begin with. He thought he had gone to heaven. There were females! Oblivious to all the polite conventions of society, all the rules of precedence and pecking order, he marched straight up to the nearest female, postured and posed impressively and gave her a smacker. Just like he practised with his mirror. She was flabbergasted but recovered quickly, hit him hard and took herself off. Feathers thoroughly ruffled, she told all and sundry of the horror that had landed in their midst. Poor Billy was ostracised, sent to Coventry, ignored. He made a few more gallant attempts to make friends but failed completely. Where ever he went, everyone else had gone somewhere else. He slept alone, out in the cold. Poor Billy.

But not 'Stupid Billy'. He was a fast learner. By the time the Carers came back he was a changed chap. He'd put on weight and lost his brashness. He had settled down and was spending most of his days chit chatting with Horatio, from whom he was virtually inseparable. At night the two of them nestled side by side. They looked so comfortable that the Carers didn't have the heart to part them.

If increasing girth is a sign of contentment, then Billy had found contentment. Although he never did get himself a henfriend. They just never took him seriously. But he became a favourite uncle - generations of youngsters took advantage of his good nature - sneaking up behind him, pulling his tail...

... that's Billy's tale.

Dedicated to:

Rodgie and Trixie. Yeller and Horatio and their begettings; Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Flighty and Grey and their progeny; Willoughby, Buckingham, Amadas, Chancellor, Farthing and Lizzy and her sisters (though father uncertain in this case). Chubby Chops and Monday and their prodigious produce; Thistles, Daffy, Dilly, Greensleeves, Flora, Fauna, Nippy, Oliver, Artful and Peregrine. Also Trixy, Henry, Sidney, Billy, Bubbles, Jumbo, Zimbabwe, Clarence, Rodgerine, Clarissa, Cuthbert and Mr Chips. And latecomers; Chessy and Henry II, and their offspring, Zimbabwe II, Tshaka and Mzilikazi. And last but definitely not least; Squonk, refugee from an irate landlord.

Waz

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