My friend, the garden gnome

I remember the first time I saw him as clear as glass. Not the glass that you see on those old church windows, the ones that took labor and vision and colors that would drive The Mad Hatter insane. The other kind. The glass you get in cheap mirrors that distort your face and make your tail look far less glorious than it is.

And I know I have a glorious tail.

He said so too, the Gnome. The only Ceramic in that garden that speaks to me like I didn’t just fall from a tree. As if I would. But Ceramics, they don’t leave the ground much, so what would they know? Anyway, he didn’t make cheap jokes. Didn’t threaten to call the cat. He just tipped his hat and asked me to tea. I declined. Still, it was nice to be asked.

It took us a while to become friendly, being so different and all. Him with his red cheeks and rather stiff demeanor. His penchant for garish colors. The pointy hats.

Those drive me insane. I don’t see the need for hats in the first place. They get in the way, obscure your vision. Downright dangerous if you ask me. My cousin Ricky almost broke his neck once, trying to wear a hat. It got caught up in the branches and he only made it by the tip of his tail. Dark stuff. The Gnome, he doesn’t listen.

“It’s tradition” he says, like that’s meant to mean something to me. “Gnomes wear hats.”

“But they get in the way!” I try to explain for the millionth time. I’m patient and all but this conversation is getting too long. He stares for a while, eyeing me thoughtfully. I try to stay focused.

“This tree climbing, that’s reckless if you ask me,” he tells me even though I didn’t. “Two feet on the ground, that’s where I belong.”

Still, I like him. If a nut falls near him when I’m not around he saves it for me. Not much use for them himself, he’d say. Gnomes don’t eat nuts. Funny chaps. What else is there to eat? I tried some green leaf the other day. One of the Loud-Walkers-Bad-Climbers left one on a park bench. Tasted like Ricky’s butt but I ate it anyway. Never turn down free food, that’s what my mom always says. Well she did, before the cat got her. Now she doesn’t say much. Tends to be that way I guess. Ricky says the same is likely to happen to us though I rather I didn’t go that way.

There’s this story I told the Gnome but he said it’s not possible. Anyway what the hell does he know? This happened long before his time. There’s this family legend Ricky told me the day we climbed the Big Tree. Apparently great-great-grandpa made it up here and he was taken by an eagle! An eagle!! Can you believe it? Now that’s a way to go! Not eaten by some dumb cat who falls out of the easiest trees. I guess that’s what happens when you live with LWBC’s- it’s not like they can teach it how to climb.

I’m getting distracted. This is meant to be the story of me and the Gnome. Last time I tried telling it me and Ricky ended up being chased by the cat. Oh shit. There it is.