I learned to sleep in increments of five. I cat napped minutes. But then the next problem hit. We’d gone through all the milk I had in the refrigerator. Once again, I had no idea what to do. But brains are inventive, and luckily, by then, Frey was up and about. He was running circles around me, in fact. He felt good.
We left my lean-to, and I zombie-jogged to Mrs. Swenson’s. I didn’t have any money for milk or for food, but she took me into her barn, fixed me some food, fed Frey, and took care of both of us for a couple of weeks. I might have starved if she hadn’t been the kind lady she is. And if I’d starved, then Frey would have, too, because he was still nursing my silly tee shirt.
“I guess it sounds like the whole tale was going great. All problems surmounted, only that wasn’t true at all. Frey didn’t get his mother’s colostrum, which meant he had no protection from disease and he didn’t get all the nutrients he needed. And he developed diarrhea. Things were bad, and he was getting weaker.
That was when Mrs. Swenson got her vet to come see Frey. Again, I still had no money, nothing to trade, and I was still more or less in a fog of sleeplessness. But Mrs. Swenson paid for the vet and for the mare replacement powder, and she even found a lactating mare so that Frey could get some of the real stuff.
“Judge Muffett, if I ever find a gold mine, I’m signing it over to Mrs. Swenson because she saved Frey’s life and mine. It was a whole month before I got myself together enough to start working on the farm. I learned how to milk cows and dig fence posts.
“I also discovered that there are good people living here in the village, people who do things because they have what Old Mother, the old woman who mentored me before she passed, used to call: a heart full of trees, flowers, and the wonderful understanding of love.