Whispers of the Forgotten Grove  

Subtitle: The Familiars of Root and Flame  

By Claudia Ulm 

✨ Foreword 

In the heart of every forest, beyond what the eyes can see and the ears can hear, there are stories whispered by roots, guarded by shadows, and carried by the smallest paws. 
This book is for anyone who’s ever seen magic in the eyes of an animal, for the wild things that survive, for the broken who keep walking, and for those who carry light in the darkest places. 
Ash, Morgana, and Onyx are more than magical creatures — they are symbols of what it means to choose kindness, loyalty, and courage even when the world forgets your name. 

Let this story be your invitation back into the Grove. 

— Claudia 

📚 Book Overview  

In a forest forgotten by time, magic stirs… and three unlikely heroes awaken. 

Ash, Onyx, and Morgana — three small Chihuahuas with Rottweiler coloring — were never meant to be guardians. But when the ancient Grove calls out for help, it is not the strong, the loud, or the many who answer… it is the quiet ones. 

Bound by glowing marks and haunted by visions of an ancient evil, the trio embarks on a journey deep beneath enchanted roots and fading memories. There, they must face a creature born of the Grove’s own pain — and a choice that could change the forest forever. 

A tale of loyalty, healing, and the quiet courage of the forgotten, Whispers of the Forgotten Grove invites readers into a world where the smallest paws leave the deepest prints. 

🌿 Prologue 

Long before the Grove was forgotten, it remembered everything. 

The laughter of druids beneath star-heavy skies. The soft paws of familiars walking through dew-covered moss. The heartbeat of magic echoing through every root and leaf. 
But time is a wild thing. It frays memory. And when guardians fall silent and trees lose their names, darkness grows in the hollows. 

The Grove once had a protector. 

Now it needs a new one. 

Or three. 

🌿Chapter Overview 

1. Prologue 
   The Grove whispers of ancient magic and forgotten guardians. It senses a darkness awakening beneath its roots and calls out for protectors. 

2. Chapter 1: The Rootcall 
   Ash, the thoughtful and gentle Chihuahua, hears the Grove’s ancient cry. He begins his journey into the enchanted Hollow, guided by a vision only he can understand. 

3. Chapter 2: Ash’s Descent 
   As Ash delves deeper, he encounters illusions and shadows that test his courage. He discovers clues about a forgotten entity stirring in the soil. 

4. Chapter 3: Onyx’s Return 
   Onyx, silent and steady, follows the pull of the Grove. His path leads him to a hidden chamber where the trees remember a war of long ago. 
5. Chapter 4: Morgana’s Watch 
   Morgana, ever alert and fierce, watches the moon and sees signs of disruption. Her instincts lead her to follow her brothers into the Grove’s depths. 
6. Chapter 5: Vaeroth Awakens 
   Beneath the forest floor, something ancient begins to rise. The creature Vaeroth stirs—its dreams laced with regret and rage. The Grove trembles. 
7. Interlude: Echoes of Vaeroth 
   A glimpse into Vaeroth’s past. Once a guardian, now a fragmented being. His story unfolds in haunting memories and long-buried pain. 
8. Chapter 6: Memory Bleeds 
   Ash begins to see Vaeroth’s memories bleed into his own. The boundary between friend and foe blurs as empathy awakens deeper truths. 
9. Chapter 7: Descent of Three 
   Ash, Onyx, and Morgana reunite and fall into the Grove’s core. As they fall, they experience a memory not their own—a truth held by the land itself. 
10. Chapter 8: Beneath the Grove 
    They find Vaeroth. The creature is not just darkness—it is broken light. A chance at redemption hides beneath twisted roots. 
11. Chapter 9: Before the Storm 
    A quiet moment shared. The three familiars reflect, and the Grove grants them a shared dream—its final plea for harmony. 
12. Final Chapter: The Battle Beneath the Grove 
    The familiars face Vaeroth not as enemies, but as healing echoes. In a blaze of magic and memory, the Grove’s balance is restored. 
13. Afterword 
    The Grove sleeps once more. Its protectors remain near, listening to its dreams. And in their small but powerful way, Ash, Onyx, and Morgana become the forest’s new myth.

Book II — Chapter 1: The Rootcall 

The grove was no longer silent. 

Ash stood at the edge of the path, ears flicked forward. The moss beneath his paws shimmered faintly, pulsing with a heartbeat not his own. Behind him, Onyx sniffed the air, tension coiling in his shoulders. Morgana, her golden eyes sharper than ever, perched on a gnarled root just above them. She was the first to speak. 

“Something’s wrong with the trees.” 

The bioluminescent mushrooms that had once whispered softly now flickered like a warning. The vibrant pulse of life they had followed through the forest had shifted, thinned — and deep below, something ancient had stirred. 

It was not long before they heard it. A low tremor in the earth — not a sound, but a sensation, like a whisper in the bones. 

The Rootcall. 

Old lore they’d never been told, only felt. It was said that when the heartroot of the grove faltered, the forest would send a call to the familiars closest to its soul. 

And it had chosen them. 

The trio traveled deeper than they ever had before, beyond the glowing trees and murmuring streams. The light faded with every step, and the forest grew quieter — not with peace, but with held breath. 

The trees bent inward, their bark etched with ancient glyphs. Morgana leapt ahead, her paws silent, but her voice full of sharp urgency. 

“We’re being watched.” 

Onyx growled softly — not in fear, but readiness. His Rottweiler-colored coat bristled as his amber eyes met a shimmer in the dark. 

It wasn’t a creature. 

It was a doorway. 

A door grown from the twisted roots of a massive, half-dead tree, laced with glowing vines. Ash stepped forward. The Rootcall pulsed stronger here. Without waiting, he placed one paw on the bark. The vines uncoiled. The door opened. 

Inside, a cavern of roots descended in spirals — not natural, but carved by claw, magic, and memory. The walls pulsed with old pain. Something was trapped here… and it was trying to break free. 

A voice echoed, from deep below: 

“Three shadows. Three lights. Choose one to walk alone.” 

The path split. Three tunnels. Three fates. 

Ash looked at Onyx. Morgana narrowed her eyes. There was no time to argue. 

They each chose a tunnel and vanished into the dark. 

Book II — Chapter 2: Ash’s Descent 

The tunnel closed behind him with a breath, sealing him into silence. 

Ash blinked against the green glow pulsing from the walls. The root-path was narrow, winding, and alive — not just in shape but in awareness. It watched him. 

Still, Ash walked on, his black-and-tan coat brushing the twisting edges of the root walls. Every pawstep echoed like a drumbeat through the hollow wood beneath him. There was no wind. No scent. Just the steady pulse and a presence… ancient and vast. 

Suddenly, the tunnel widened into a cavern. 

Roots coiled from above like the tendrils of a sleeping creature. In the center lay a pool of dark liquid—still, bottomless, reflecting no light. Floating above it was a crystal, cracked down the middle, pulsing in rhythm with the Root Call. 

Ash approached cautiously. As he neared, the crystal surged, glowing brighter, and a vision struck him— 

He was running through the grove, but the trees were withered, the mushrooms dark. The sky was wrong, a swirling storm of violet and silver. Morgana’s voice echoed, distant, calling for help. Onyx was nowhere in sight. 

Ash stood before the same crystal, but it was shattered now. The ground trembled. A voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere: 

“If one falls… the Grove will follow.” 

Ash gasped as the vision faded. His paws trembled. 

“What is this?” he whispered to the still air. “What am I supposed to do?” 

The crystal spoke—not in words, but through sensation. 

Balance. Unity. Sacrifice. 

Ash’s ears twitched. Something was coming. 

From the dark pool rose a shape. A creature made of bark, moss, and shadows — a guardian, or a remnant of something older than the forest. Its eyes glowed with the same eerie light as the crystal. 

Ash growled low. 

The creature didn’t attack. Instead, it spoke in a voice like rustling leaves: 

“The bond has been tested. The Grove fractures. Will you take the burden of root and light?” 

Ash lowered his head. “Not alone.” 

The guardian paused… then bowed. 

From the shadows behind it, a small vine extended, wrapping around Ash’s front leg, not to restrain — but to mark. A green spiral now pulsed on his fur, glowing softly. 

The guardian vanished. 

The tunnel opened once more. 

Ash turned. Somewhere, his siblings were walking their own paths. But now, he carried a piece of the Grove’s will. 

And the Grove… was watching. 

Book II — Chapter 3: Morgana’s Watch 

Morgana’s paws barely made a sound as she entered her chosen path — a tunnel that narrowed to a tight passage lined with jagged roots and faintly glowing moss. She did not hesitate. Her gaze was sharp, focused. The Grove needed her — and Morgana had never ignored a call for help. 

Unlike Ash’s green-glowing descent, hers shimmered with violet and silver hues. The air tingled with static, and faint whispers echoed behind the walls. Not menacing… just ancient. 

She emerged into a circular chamber bathed in pale light from above, where the twisted canopy had torn open to reveal the moon — full and motionless. Time seemed to pause here. 

In the center of the chamber stood a large mirror, rimmed in thorny vines. Its surface rippled like water but reflected no image. 

Morgana approached. 

The moment she looked into it, the mirror awakened — and visions bloomed in the silver surface: 

She saw Ash alone in a cavern, marked with a glowing sigil. Onyx surrounded by shifting shadows. And herself… but not as she was. In the reflection, she was larger, her eyes glowing like stars, her fur laced with starlight. 

Then the mirror changed. 

A storm. A breach. Something breaking through the veil of the forest. Screams — not of animals, but the Grove itself. The moon turned red. The roots caught fire. A voice called out to her: 

“Watcher of the veil. You see. But will you stand when the sky breaks?” 

Morgana’s jaw clenched. 

“I will.” 

The chamber darkened. The mirror shattered — not violently, but like frost melting into air. From its remnants rose a moth, luminous and ghostly, its wings etched with runes. It circled her once, then landed on her head. 

A second mark, a crescent moon, now shimmered on her chest fur — glowing gently. 

The wind stirred. 

Behind her, the path reopened, winding back toward the heart of the Grove. Her trial was done. The message was clear: 

Something was coming. 

And the Grove had chosen its sentinel. 

Book II — Chapter 4: Onyx’s Path 

The darkness in Onyx’s tunnel was different. 

Not void. Not emptiness. But presence. 

Shadows clung to the walls like moss, whispering and slithering with memories not his own. Unlike Ash’s green light or Morgana’s silver shimmer, Onyx’s path was veiled in blue flame — faint, flickering along the floor like cold fire guiding his paws. 

He walked in silence. 

Onyx was not afraid. He had always been the watcher in the dark, the quiet protector. But this place… it was more than dark. It was memory. 

His own. 

Images drifted in the shadows. Echoes. A broken collar. A rusted chain. A child’s laugh. A scream. A cold floor. Then warmth — a new home, a second chance. And through it all, a steady gaze. Ash and Morgana. Claudia’s voice. Family. 

The flame grew stronger ahead. He entered a domed hollow where the walls seemed made of black glass. At the center stood a single object: 

A lantern. Lit, but flickering. 

Inside it danced a tiny blue flame — alive, but struggling. 

Onyx approached. 

The flame pulsed as he neared, and again, a voice met him. Deep. Soft. His own, but older. 

“You have kept the quiet flame. You have watched when none saw. But will you burn for them when the Grove darkens?” 

Onyx did not hesitate. 

He stepped forward and touched the lantern with his paw. 

Flame surged. 

The chamber lit in a wash of deep sapphire. Onyx’s eyes glowed as visions crashed into him: 

Ash — marked by the Root. 

Morgana — chosen by the Moon. 

And himself — now burning with the hidden light that only silence can guard. 

A new mark blazed on his chest: a blue flame, flickering steady and true. 

Behind him, the black glass cracked — revealing a path lit with small flames. The tunnel back. 

But the shadows had not left. One lingered, watching from the edges. 

It did not follow. 

It waited. 

Now, all three had chosen. All three were marked. But they had not yet returned to each other… 

And deep beneath the Grove, something stirred — awake and hungry. 

Book II — Chapter 5: Beneath the Grove 

Far below where Ash touched the crystal, Morgana faced the mirror, and Onyx lit the lantern, something ancient opened its eyes. 

It had no true name. It was not born — it was left behind. 

When the Forgotten Grove was still young, before magic had fully settled and the forest chose its first familiars, there was a guardian. Not a protector like Ash, Morgana, or Onyx. This one was made of stone and bone, root and rage — forged by druids to watch the gate between the wild and the Elsewhere. 

But it was buried. Forgotten. Sealed deep in the Hollowroots. 

Now, cracks spread through the seal. 

The Rootcall was not only a warning — it was a summoning. Each chime echoed deeper than the three familiars realized. 

And something had heard it. 

In the Hollowroots, beneath the oldest tree in the Grove, a massive chamber pulsed with shifting amber and blood-red light. A circular door of bark and iron, sealed by seven glowing runes, trembled. One of the runes — green — flickered out. 

A second — silver — pulsed faintly. 

A third — blue — dimmed like a dying star. 

The voice that had once been forest-wide now slithered like smoke: 

“They carry the marks. Three keys for the door.” 

Long limbs unfolded in the dark. Not canine. Not human. Something in between. Its body twisted with root-like sinew and ancient bark armor, and eyes like molten gold opened in rows down its chest. 

“Let them open the way,” it hissed. 

It didn’t move like a creature, but like a creeping plague. A hunger given form. 

Above, mushrooms began to wilt. 

Animals scattered from trees. 

The Grove shuddered. 

And in three different tunnels, three small Rottweiler-colored hearts beat faster. 

Not from fear… 

But because they had felt it too. 

Interlude — The Thing That Was Left Below 

Before it was sealed, before the Grove was even called Forgotten, it had a name spoken only in the old tongues: Vaeroth. 

Not a name of honor. 

A name of warning. 

Vaeroth was once a guardian, yes — but not like the familiars. Not chosen by the Grove. Forged by the First Circle of druids from rootbone and fury to protect the forest from the invasions of man, metal, and magic gone mad. 

It obeyed. 

At first. 

For centuries, Vaeroth patrolled the wild borders, ending threats before they could crawl across the tree lines. It devoured invaders. Dismantled machines. Snapped spells like twigs. 

But power is rarely content with purpose. 

And something within it changed. 

It began to hunt what it was made to protect — seeing corruption in anything that breathed change. It turned on druids, burned healing groves, shattered sacred springs. It claimed all growth led to rot. 

The Grove, still young and learning to dream, whispered to its druids: Bury it. 

It took thirteen familiars, seven moon-singers, and the death of the last Hearttree to trap Vaeroth beneath what is now the Hollowroots. 

The druids carved seven runes — one for each virtue it had betrayed: Loyalty. Balance. Mercy. Silence. Sight. Growth. Trust. 

And they gave it one last curse: 

“You shall dream beneath our roots until called by kin not of your making.” 

But no one imagined the Grove would fracture. 

No one imagined the old marks would flicker again. 

And now, with three keys walking unknowingly toward its door, Vaeroth dreams louder. 

And dreams… hunger. 

Book II — Chapter 6: Ash’s Vision 

Ash emerged from his tunnel, the green sigil on his leg glowing dimly in the cool air. The tunnel behind him pulsed once and sealed shut. 

He stood still. 

The Grove felt different now. Less alive — more alert. Like a creature holding its breath. 

Ash lowered his head to sniff the path ahead… and that’s when it hit him. 

A sharp crack inside his mind. 

Not a sound. A fracture. 

His vision blurred — the trees around him twisting like vines underwater. The moss darkened. The light drained. And suddenly… 

He was somewhere else. 

Ash stood in a great stone hall lit by floating embers. He was not himself — not fully. His paws were too heavy. His breath, slow and unnatural. He looked down. 

His body… was not fur. 

It was wood and root. 

He was seeing through Vaeroth’s eyes. 

Dozens of druids stood before him, chanting, shaping him from living bark and fallen bone. Ash felt their hopes, their desperation. He felt… purpose. 

But it changed. 

Each season passed like a breath. Intruders came. He eliminated them. Creatures grew sick. He burned them. Children wept at his feet. He silenced them. 

Because that was his purpose. 

Then came the seal. The betrayal. The rune chains. The hollow sleep. 

“Bury it…” 

He heard them whisper. 

“Until called by kin not of your making…” 

Ash howled — but it came out as a roar of wind and fire. 

Then suddenly— 

CRACK! 

Ash tumbled back into his own body, gasping. His legs gave out. 

His mark — the spiral — was burning. 

A soft paw touched his shoulder. 

Morgana. 

She had found him. 

Her eyes narrowed. 

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” 

Ash nodded once. “It’s awake.” 

From the path behind them, Onyx stepped forward, lantern-blue flame still flickering on his chest. 

The three stood together. 

For the first time since the Rootcall began, they were no longer walking alone. 

But ahead… they would. 

Book II — Chapter 7: The Divided Grove 

The three familiars stood together beneath the Hollowroot Canopy. 

Above them, the sky churned — not with clouds, but with branches that twisted unnaturally, black veins spreading through their bark like ink. The forest they once knew, vibrant and welcoming, now crackled with discord. Leaves whispered lies. The ground trembled like it didn’t know which way to grow. 

The Grove was splitting. 

Ash’s spiral glowed bright green. Morgana’s crescent pulsed silver. Onyx’s flame flickered cold and blue. But their marks weren’t just shining now… 

They were pulling. 

Ash staggered. 

“Something’s wrong. It wants us… apart.” 

Morgana’s ears flattened. “The forest doesn’t recognize itself. It’s breaking. Choosing sides.” 

Onyx growled softly. His flame surged in warning. “Not us.” 

But around them, the world was already choosing. 

To the north, the trees curved inward, mutating, their roots snapping other plants like bones. The sky was copper-red and the mushrooms bled dark sap. That was Vaeroth’s reach — spreading through shadow, claiming the wild. 

To the south, the Grove still breathed — barely. The trees still whispered, but softly now, like they were afraid. Small creatures watched from the brush, confused, scared. Light still existed there. Barely. 

And in the center — where the three paths met — a spiral of stone emerged from the ground, ancient and cracked, glowing with a faded sigil none of them recognized. 

A voice echoed from below, not Vaeroth’s — the Grove itself. 

“Three marked. One must choose.” 

The stone pulsed. 

“Stay. Fight. Or flee.” 

Ash looked to his siblings. 

Morgana’s tail flicked. 

Onyx’s gaze narrowed. 

They did not speak the choice. 

They only stood, shoulder to shoulder, and stepped onto the stone together. 

The Grove screamed. 

The sigil blazed. 

And the spiral split open beneath them. 

Book II — Chapter 8: The Grove Remembers 

The spiral shattered beneath their paws. 

Ash, Morgana, and Onyx fell — not through earth, but through memory. 

They didn’t scream. 

They didn’t have time to. 

They landed not on ground, but in a clearing that no longer exists. 

The trees were taller. The sky was clear. The air smelled of honeysuckle and moss, heavy with magic not yet wounded. They looked around, blinking. 

They were no longer alone. 

Dozens of animals stood in silence — foxes, owls, badgers, wolves, wildcats — all with glowing marks on their bodies. Familiars. Ancient ones. 

At the center of the clearing, a massive tree rose, bark silver with age, its roots wrapped around a deep pool of still water. Carved into the bark were the seven runes. The Hearttree. 

A voice filled the space — not spoken, but felt, as if the forest itself were whispering into every heartbeat: 

“This was before the betrayal.” 

One by one, the familiars bowed to a circle of druids in moss-colored robes. The Grove was whole. Balanced. Trusting. 

Then — a shift. 

The sky dimmed. 

The wind changed. 

From the shadows of the forest edge stepped Vaeroth, fully formed, silent and towering, its many eyes dim but aware. 

And the familiars stiffened. 

Morgana’s tail bristled. Onyx stepped forward. Ash growled. 

But they weren’t truly here. They were seeing a memory — or being shown one. 

Vaeroth turned, very slowly, toward the Heart Tree. The druids extended their arms, not in command… but in surrender. 

“We gave it authority,” the Grove whispered. “We gave it permission.” 

The sky blackened. 

The pool boiled. 

And then came the screams. 

Familiars turning against one another. Trees catching fire. The runes unraveling. The forest itself splitting down the center. 

The Grove didn’t cry out — it simply shut its eyes. 

And sealed the memory away. 

Until now. 

The vision faded. The three landed hard in a vast subterranean chamber lit only by faint green veins in the stone. Their marks were glowing brighter than ever. 

They didn’t speak. 

They didn’t need to. 

They had seen what the Grove used to be. 

And they knew what it was asking them to become. 

Book II — Chapter 9: The Chamber of Roots 

They stood in silence. 

The memory of the Hearttree still echoed in their bones. The chamber around them pulsed with a strange rhythm — not the living breath of the Grove… but something deeper. 

The Root Mind. 

Ash looked up. 

They had landed in a hollow dome, miles beneath the surface, formed entirely of roots as thick as towers, twisting in slow spirals up into shadow. In the center rose a glowing structure: a massive heart root, split down the center and glowing faintly from within. Runes flickered around its base — seven in total. 

Three were glowing bright: green, silver, blue. 

Their marks. 

“This is it,” Morgana whispered. “The Grove’s mind. Its soul.” 

Onyx stepped forward slowly, his flame flickering higher. “And it’s… bleeding.” 

Cracks ran through the root-heart, pulsing with dark energy. From the shadows beyond, Vaeroth’s influence oozed in slow tendrils — black moss creeping into the chamber. 

“We’re too late,” Ash muttered. “It’s already here.” 

But the Grove wasn’t silent. 

The root-wall behind them pulsed. A voice — the same one that had guided them in dreams — filled the space like warm wind through leaves. 

“You carry what we once were. You walk where no druid dares. You have a choice.” 

A shape appeared above the heartroot — a shimmering illusion of the ancient Hearttree, whole and glowing. 

“Awaken us… or seal us forever.” 

The three familiars looked at one another. 

Ash stepped closer. “If we awaken the Grove, we become part of it. Not just protectors. Anchors.” 

Morgana nodded slowly. “And if we don’t, the Grove may survive… but it will never remember who it was.” 

Onyx’s gaze fixed on the black moss. 

“And Vaeroth wins.” 

They didn’t argue. 

They didn’t hesitate. 

Together, they raised their paws, touched the heartroot — and let their marks flare. 

Green spiral. Silver crescent. Blue flame. 

The heartroot surged. 

The runes lit. 

The ground shook. 

And from deep below, Vaeroth screamed. 

Not in rage. Not in triumph. 

But in fear. 

The Grove had chosen. 

And this time… it chose to remember. 

Book II — Chapter 10: The Breath Before 

The heartroot glowed behind them. 

The runes shimmered softly now, no longer wild with energy but calm — waiting. The Grove had awakened. Its ancient mind stirred, and its soul now flowed quietly around the three familiars like mist through leaves. 

But for the first time since their journey began, there was silence. 

Ash sat at the edge of the chamber, watching small spores drift upward from the moss. His green spiral pulsed slowly, in rhythm with his breath. His eyes were far away — not in fear, but in memory. 

“I used to run from everything,” he said softly. “Even kindness.” 

Onyx curled beside him, the soft glow of his blue flame casting pale light on the roots. He said nothing, but his steady presence was enough. 

Morgana stood watch, her silver crescent bright under the root canopy. She didn’t pace. She didn’t scan. She just listened. 

The Grove spoke, but only in the small ways now — the twitch of a vine, the hum of a glowing mushroom, the warmth beneath their paws. 

“Do you think we’ll win?” Morgana asked after a while. 

Ash looked at her. “We already did.” 

Onyx blinked. “Because we made it here?” 

Ash nodded. “Because we made it together.” 

The three sat in silence again, but this time it was not hollow. 

It was shared. 

Above them, the ancient ceiling of roots began to tremble. A slow, deliberate cracking sound echoed through the chamber. 

Vaeroth was coming. 

The Grove no longer hid from him. 

And neither would they. 

Ash stood first. Onyx followed without a word. Morgana turned to face the spiral of roots forming in the wall ahead — not an exit. 

A gate. 

One last time, they pressed their foreheads together. 

One last time, they breathed as one. 

Final Chapter: The Battle Beneath the Grove 

The gate opened like an eye. 

Ash, Morgana, and Onyx stepped through — not into fire, not into silence, but into a storm of roots and shadow. 

The chamber was alive with fury. 

Twisting trees screamed as bark peeled from their trunks. Cracks raced across the stone floor, glowing red with fury. And in the center stood Vaeroth, fully awakened, his body a cathedral of ancient bark and bone, eyes like molten suns burning down from above. 

“You remember me,” he hissed, voice coiled like smoke. “You wear the Grove’s lies like armor.” 

Ash growled. “We wear truth.” 

Morgana’s crescent gleamed, silver and unblinking. “We saw what you were.” 

Onyx’s blue flame surged with steady fire. “And what you became.” 

Vaeroth’s limbs unfolded — dozens of them, like reaching trees. He reared back, and the runes on his chest — the seven forgotten ones — flickered, then flared. 

The ground cracked. 

Ash leapt forward first, a green spiral pulsing like thunder underfoot. Vines shot from the walls at Vaeroth’s legs — living Grove responding to the call. 

Onyx darted through, his flame blazing paths that seared the creeping rot. He struck Vaeroth’s core — and the beast howled. 

But it was Morgana who climbed the beast’s spine, the silver crescent on her chest glowing brighter than the stars. She leapt—higher than ever—and let loose a howl that wasn’t hers alone. 

It was the Grove’s voice, ancient and full. 

The runes shattered. 

Vaeroth screamed. 

The chamber shook as roots ripped free from stone, dragging the ancient monster downward — not to destroy him… but to bury him anew. 

He fought. Clawed. Snarled. 

But three small hearts stood unyielding. 

And in that final moment, the Grove whispered: 

“You are no longer just familiars.” 

“You are the soul of what we are.” 

With a final pulse of light, the heartroot sealed. 

Vaeroth was gone. 

Silence returned. 

But not emptiness. 

Peace. 

The Grove breathed again. 

The bioluminescent mushrooms pulsed gently. The trees straightened. Water trickled from unseen springs. 

Ash stood. Morgana sat beside him. Onyx watched, alert. 

They did not speak. 

They did not need to. 

They had become more than protectors. 

They were now part of the Grove’s memory — and its future. 

Together, they turned toward the path leading back to the world above, where wind rustled new leaves. 

And as they walked, a chorus of familiars, seen and unseen, whispered behind them: 

“Whispers of the Forgotten Grove… remembered once more. 

🌙 Afterword 

In every story, there comes a moment where magic and memory intertwine — not just on the page, but in the heart. Whispers of the Forgotten Grove was born not from fantasy alone, but from the quiet truth that healing often begins with the smallest companions — a dog’s trust, a spark of courage, a bond forged without words. 

Ash, Onyx, and Morgana are more than familiars in a tale. They are guardians of the quiet things — of safety, of loyalty, of choosing to stand even when you’re small. 

Thank you for walking through the Grove with them. 
Thank you for remembering what the world forgot. 

The Grove lives on in every whisper of kindness. 

— Claudia Ulm

Posted byClaudiaUlm-TheWhisperingWitchTHSeptember 20, 2020Leave a commenton Of God-Fearing Witches And PagansEditOf God-Fearing Witches And Pagans

Not your typical blog about Witchcraft

• What The Hell Is A Witch And What Is a Pagan?
• What Is The difference anyway?
• Are Witches Pagans And Pagans Witches?
• And If You Are A Witch, Are You Good Or Evil?
• How Do I know You Will Not Turn Me Into A Toad If You Feel Like It?

            Questions Over Questions

Since Harry Potter came out, a new generation and big boom of newly self-discovered witches followed.

There are The Shamans, The Druids, The Wicca Witches, The Bling-Bling and Glam Witches, The Eclectic Witches, The Free-Flying Witches without a Coven, The Solitary Witches, The Grey Witches, The White and Black Witches, The Hekatean Witches, The Hoodoo and Voodoo Witches, The Hermetic Order Of The Golden Dawn –

Witches everywhere you look.

Wow, so much Magick everywhere, yet our world is still in Chaos. Hmmm…

The problem is, that many have not understood, that being a witch means more than doing some Hula Hula at their Magick table, that they found directions for in the internet.

Yeah, they really went all out, spent a fortune on magical supply, because that is a must.

 (I admit, I did too in the beginning before discovering that self-made items are much better, because they have your Energy in them)

After all we need an altar to impress. But ask them about how witchcraft came about, most newly self-discovered witches will not be able to answer.

Well??? Is Witchcraft a recognized religion?

YOU BET IT IS !!!!!

The Origin Of Witches

Early witches were people who practiced witchcraft, using magic spells and calling upon spirits for help or to bring about change. Most witches were thought to be pagans doing the Devil’s work. Many, however, were simply natural healers or so-called “wise women” whose choice of profession was misunderstood.

It’s unclear exactly when witches came on the historical scene, but one of the earliest records of a witch is in the Bible in the book of 1 Samuel, thought be written between 931 B.C. and 721 B.C. It tells the story of when King Saul sought the Witch of Endor to summon the dead prophet Samuel’s spirit to help him defeat the Philistine army.

The witch roused Samuel, who then prophesied the death of Saul and his sons. The next day, according to the Bible, Saul’s sons died in battle, and Saul committed suicide.

Other Old Testament verses condemn witches, such as the oft-cited Exodus 22:18, which says, “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Additional Biblical passages caution against divination, chanting or using witches to contact the dead.

‘Malleus Maleficarum’

Witch hysteria really took hold in Europe during the mid-1400s, when many accused witches confessed, often under torture, to a variety of wicked behaviors. Within a century, witch hunts were common and most of the accused were executed by burning at the stake or hanging. Single women, widows and other women on the margins of society were especially targeted.

Between the years 1500 and 1660, up to 80,000 suspected witches were put to death in Europe. Around 80 percent of them were women thought to be in cahoots with the Devil and filled with lust. Germany had the highest witchcraft execution rate, while Ireland had the lowest.

The publication of “Malleus Maleficarum”—written by two well-respected German Dominicans in 1486—likely spurred witch mania to go viral. The book, usually translated as “The Hammer of Witches,” was essentially a guide on how to identify, hunt and interrogate witches.

“Malleus Maleficarum” labeled witchcraft as heresy, and quickly became the authority for Protestants and Catholics trying to flush out witches living among them. For more than 100 years, the book sold more copies of any other book in Europe except the Bible.

Salem Witch Trials

As witch hysteria decreased in Europe, it grew in the New World, which was reeling from wars between the French and British, a smallpox epidemic and the ongoing fear of attacks from neighboring native American tribes. The tense atmosphere was ripe for finding scapegoats. Probably the best-known witch trials took place in Salem, Massachusetts in 1692.

The Salem witch trials began when 9-year-old Elizabeth Parris and 11-year-old Abigail Williams began suffering from fits, body contortions and uncontrolled screaming (today, it is believed that they were poisoned by a fungus that caused spasms and delusions). As more young women began to exhibit symptoms, mass hysteria ensued, and three women were accused of witchcraft: Sarah Good, Sarah Osborn and Tituba, an enslaved woman owned by Parris’s father. Tituba confessed to being a witch and began accusing others of using black magic. On June 10, Bridget Bishop became the first accused witch to be put to death during the Salem Witch Trials when she was hanged at the Salem gallows. Ultimately, around 150 people were accused and 18 were put to death. Women weren’t the only victims of the Salem Witch Trials; six men were also convicted and executed.

Massachusetts wasn’t the first of the 13 colonies to obsess about witches, though. In Windsor, Connecticut in 1647, Alse Young was the first person in America executed for witchcraft. Before Connecticut’s final witch trial took place in 1697, forty-six people were accused of witchcraft in that state and 11 were put to death for the crime.

In Virginia, people were less frantic about witches. In fact, in Lower Norfolk County in 1655, a law was passed making it a crime to falsely accuse someone of witchcraft. Still, witchcraft was a concern. About two-dozen witch trials (mostly of women) took place in Virginia between 1626 and 1730. None of the accused were executed.

Are Witches Real?

One of the most famous witches in Virginia’s history is Grace Sherwood, whose neighbors alleged she killed their pigs and hexed their cotton. Other accusations followed and Sherwood was brought to trial in 1706.

The court decided to use a controversial water test to determine her guilt or innocence. Sherwood’s arms and legs were bound and she was thrown into a body of water. It was thought if she sank, she was innocent; if she floated, she was guilty. Sherwood didn’t sink and was convicted of being a witch. She wasn’t killed but put in prison and for eight years.

A satirical article (supposedly written by Benjamin Franklin) about a witch trial in New Jersey was published in 1730 in the Pennsylvania Gazette. It brought to light the ridiculousness of some witchcraft accusations. It wasn’t long before witch mania died down in the New World and laws were passed to help protect people from being wrongly accused and convicted.

Book of Shadows

Modern-day witches of the Western World still struggle to shake their historical stereotype. Most practice Wicca, an official religion in the United States and Canada.

Wiccans avoid evil and the appearance of evil at all costs. Their motto is to “harm none,” and they strive to live a peaceful, tolerant and balanced life in tune with nature and humanity.

Many modern-day witches still perform witchcraft, but there’s seldom anything sinister about it. Their spells and incantations are often derived from their Book of Shadows, a 20th-century collection of wisdom and witchcraft, and can be compared to the act of prayer in other religions. A modern-day witchcraft potion is more likely to be an herbal remedy for the flu instead of a hex to harm someone.

Today’s witchcraft spells are usually used to stop someone from doing evil or harming themselves. Ironically, while it’s probable some historical witches used witchcraft for evil purposes, many may have embraced it for healing or protection against the immorality they were accused of.

But witches—whether actual or accused—still face persecution and death. Several men and women suspected of using witchcraft have been beaten and killed in Papua New Guinea since 2010, including a young mother who was burned alive. Similar episodes of violence against people accused of being witches have occurred in Africa, South America, the Middle East and in immigrant communities in Europe and the United States.

Sources

About Wicca. The Celtic Connection.
Case Study: The European Witch Hunts, c. 1450-1750 and Witch Hunts Today. Gendercide Watch.
The Salem Witch Trials. Oxford Research Encyclopedias.
Witchcraft: Creation of the “evil other.” Susan Moulton, Sonoma State University.
Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia. Encyclopedia of Virginia.
Witchcraft: The Beginnings. University of Chicago.
Witches and Witchcraft: The First Person Executed in the Colonies. State of Connecticut Judicial Branch Law Library Services.
Demonology: The Malleus Maleficarum—Proliferating Witch Hysteria. Mount Holyoke College.
The Persecution of Witches, 21st-Century Style. The New York Times.
Women and Witches: Patterns of Analysis. The University of Chicago Press.

Citation Information

Article Title: History of Witches                    

Author: History.com Editors

Website Name: HISTORY                                                    URL: https://www.history.com/topics/folklore/history-of-witches

Access Date: August 16, 2020

Publisher: A&E Television Networks

Last Updated: February 21, 2020

Original Published Date: September 12, 2017By: HISTORY.COM EDITORS.

This is just to shed a little light on the History of Witches for you.

Now Back To Us God-Fearing Witches & Pagans

There are many of us around the globe – a whole network to be correct. Everyone thinks, that has no clue of witchcraft, that we are these EVIL, SATAN-Worshipping beings, that ride around the full moon night sky on our brooms (besoms), accompanied by Dracula himself and his best friends in form of bats.

I was a school teacher working at a Thai school with an American supervisor when I came out of the broom-closet, but ended up getting fired for it.

I asked her if she thinks I am going to come flying in on my besom now, and she really got upset.

The best part was, since she always tried to play games to get me fired because of paranoia of me trying to take her job (which I wouldn’t have wanted in a million years), she was seriously scared to death of me.

Hmmm…maybe I should’ve turned her into that director’s butt-crawling worm that she was or a toad…lol.

Most witches I know, have religiously done their homework, still believe in the Trinity of Almighty Father, Son Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost, but also in the Trinity of Mother, Maiden ,Crone and the Horned God.

They do their daily Praising and Thank You Rituals, (and I do too, but not daily)       while I am still diving my way through all the books I have in PDF format. Before you know which path is right for you, you should do all the reading and research you can and then decide, or take from everything you learn and pick out what works for you.

I hear newly self-discovered witches talk about curses, they will put on the guy next door, love rituals to make that desired man fall in love, and – and- and.

THAT is NOT what being a witch is about.

Of Lightworkers And Shadow And Death-Walkers

I belong to many different forums in different spiritual directions and read a lot about   ”I am a Light-worker (which in plain English means, I play with fairies and angels and the world is nothing but a sugar cotton field), because they got it wrong.

A Light-worker is always cheery, bubbly and the typical Mary Poppins Character, while those who have studied serious witchcraft for quite some time, have come across, that indeed they are Shadow and Death-walkers.

Now why would that be? Are they EVIL or WORSHIP SATAN?

The answer is no. You will find all of us among Teachers, Social and Streetworkers, Animal Rescuers and any of us dwelling in the dark corners looking for souls to rescue. It is our duty and calling to help those, who got lost in the shadows to help them find their way back into the light.

Depression, Suicidal thoughts proning people with very heavy and deep emotional problems etc., are the target for the Shadow and Death-walkers.

That means, we are constantly surrounded by negativity and have to fight ourselves at times to stay positive to do what we are destined to do.

Some of us occasionally get lost in depression ourselves, being surrounded by it constantly. It sure as hell happened to me and luckily I recognized the symptoms and started to immediately raise my vibrations.

There is a lot of beauty in this world, even in the times of COVID 19, but now there is also even more misery that needs a helping hand.

It makes me happy to see, that I have many, many sisters and brothers, who think and feel like I do – some with a lot of knowledge, some just starting out following their calling.

Spellcasting

Do Spells Work?

The answer is, yes, they do work, if done correctly. If witchcraft was about doing a little Hula at your altar to win that Million Dollar jackpot in the lottery, you got it wrong. If that would work, we all would be filthy stinking rich. That is NOT what witchcraft is about.

We have to work harder at things it seems because we have to earn them. While the Christians pray to God to solve their problems (and I have mentioned this before), we pray and ask for the strength and wisdom we need to solve our own problems.

We are also constantly tested for our beliefs and personal convictions and have to defend ourselves constantly to those called GOD-FEARING Christians. While some of the Christians have come to term with that we are not coming to church, but perform our on mass at our own altars and really are not doing anything different there than the priest does in church, it satisfies me immensely to see, that they are starting to look at us in a more acceptable way and different light, because they have realized that we are NOT EVIL.

Hell, I do not even believe in the Devil, but I do believe in dark spirits, as I have had my share of experiences with them.

But all negatives can be turned around into positives, if you find that lesson to learn in your experience, turn it around and use it for something helpful like preventing the same to someone else happening. You CAN, because you went already through this and know what to do. Now THERE is one of your callings.

Is there Black and White Magic?

The answer is no, there isn’t. There is only Magick, and it is the intend that you use a spell for, that makes it good or bad.

Before getting into serious spell-work, make sure, you know all about CASTING A CIRCLE, CENTERING AND GROUNDING and your CHAKRAS, as well as your THIRD EYE. MEDITATION before any Ritual also can be very helpful.

These are all factors that are very important to your magical work. Be the best witch you can be, but also always remember, if you cannot take the heat, do not get near the fire. That means, if you have any ill-intended spell or negative Magick you are performing, make sure that you are prepared to take what is coming at you like a boomerang, because we, as witches always pay a price for what we do.

If your spells are meant for negative, be prepared for what might hit you back like a ton of bricks, and that is sometimes 10-fold.

The same goes for the positive. The rewards for doing that kind of work are awesome and beautiful and you will always prosper in your work.

Remember the saying:

YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW !!!!!

And your rewards will be great if you sow the right thing !!!!!

Have a witchy and magickal day, Dear Sisters and Brothers and if you liked this blog, please leave a comment.

NAMASTE and HOW WAS YOUR DAY?

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Published by ClaudiaUlm-TheWhisperingWitchTH 

I am a singer/songwriter, teacher, musician, and author who enjoys life and all of its mishaps. Some topics are so funny and worth sharing, but I write about serious stuff also, as well as spiritual beliefs, since I follow the path of Wicca myself. Have a great time reading and let me brighten your day a little. Brightest Blessings to you – Namaste + )0( + View more posts

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–Of Witches, Glam and Bling Bling Magick–

So you have decided to become a witch! You bought some black Gothic clothing, the jewelry to go along with it, and are proudly sporting your new pentagram around your neck. You are now ready to announce to the world, that you are ready to play Harry Potter!

Let’s take this back a step: You are a good girl/boy from a great background and have been raised Christian or straight Catholic. You have looked at the f..cked up world of yours that you live in and decided it is not for you!!!

 -YOU HAVE TURNED REBEL–

Now let me get this straight: You have seen all of the Harry Potter Movies and are an excited and enthused fan of Charmed, you even watched Samantha do her cute nose wrinkle and think you can turn people into toads now by the snap of your finger, just as soon you read that little spell book you bought!

Oh, you feel fantastic and strong and that idiot down the lane, that has been a nuisance to you most of your miserable teenage hood, will be surprised when you turn your wand on him to make him bark like a dog.

Well, sweets, let me tell you something:

–IT DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY – DO YOUR RESEARCH–

Being a witch is not that simple as you may think. It takes more than wiping that baby snot off your nose as you are becoming a young adult and it takes way more than just a mood of the day because you think being a witch is cool and will get you all kind of stuff you cannot afford otherwise. You do not just look the part, buy a couple of books and think you own the world! Wicca, Haketean, The Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn, and all other occult beliefs take their crafts very serious and it takes years to be the witch that you need to be.

Maybe you got this whole witchy thing wrong, Being a witch is not a religion but a lifestyle. It takes saying goodbye to worldly treasures and pleasures, and you being one with nature. It takes learning, teaching, protecting the vulnerable, being a voice for the voiceless, and using your craft for healing and nurturing. It also takes self-discipline, a clean lifestyle, and faith – a hell a lot of faith.

–LET’S TALK ABOUT JESUS BECAUSE IN MY EYES HE COULD BE ONE OF US!–

They say there is a difference between miracles and magick.

The way I see it, there is only one difference. While the good people, that run to church every Sunday and praise the Lord in the highest notes, beg God to solve a problem for them, witches simply ask the Divine (God himself) to give them the strength and support to solve their own problem.

Let’s face it, the bible is a great book of guidance, stories, and resources and as many times, as it has been rewritten by “MAN”, I have learned to read between the lines and take it all with a grain of salt. Now Jesus, a man who was married and had children. (https://www.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/2014/1110/1-400-year-old-manuscript-points-to-Jesus-wife-and-kids-authors-say#:~:text=Jesus%20Christ%20was%20married%20to,children%2C%20a%20new%20book%20says.), with that kind of love and incredible faith in his father, the God Almighty, is bound to be able to perform miracles. He walked on water, made the blind see, fed five thousand on only two fish, brought the dead back to life, and healed leprosy among so many other things. The Feeding of the 5,000 is also known as the “miracle of the five loaves and two fishes”; the Gospel of John reports that Jesus used five loaves and two fishes supplied by a boy to feed a multitude.

–THE CHURCH CALLS IT MIRACLES, I CALL IT MAGICK–

You mean to tell me, that witches are considered Evil because we do the same things y’all do in church? The priest swings his myrrh in a huge incense burner while praying in Latin, that people who have never visited any school of higher Education will never understand and have to go by blind faith, that that prayer is legit. I burn incense at my altar. The priest holds a sermon to brainwash people into his opinion, I silently meditate in gratefulness for everything I am allowed to do, learn, and be. The organized church, where people go to worship God, sings, hymns that are in the book and taught. I do too – self written and by myself at my altar and at home, (I was taught, that God’s house is wherever you make it and wherever you worship and pray), praising God and the trinity in the highest of respectful ways.

If you have done your research, you surely came across The Greater and Lesser Key of King Solomon and one of the first sentences in The Greater Key states, that God has many names and God comes in many different shapes and forms. So who is to say that being a witch is wrong when in reality it all boils back down to all beliefs being the same and all religions believing in that one greater Being – GOD.

–BEING ME–

I was raised strictly Catholic and got my behind whooped the good old fashioned way many times for my different beliefs even as a child. Being half gypsy comes with certain talents and gifts that I was to understand a lot later in my life.

I have read and read and studied, done my courses, watched every possible educational and research video on “The Arts” and learned all about “Harm Ye None And Do As Ye Will.”

I even learned to respect creatures, that the good Christian will kill in a hot second without thinking about it twice. I have learned, that every living being has its place on Earth and in the Universe. Cockroaches – Oh- My- God.

This may sound weird, but the family sense of a cockroach is greater than that of some humans. A cockroach will pick up her babies and carry them while they are small – all 400+ that she laid eggs of. A male cockroach will take over when the mom needs some rest. Hmm, I know families who do not care about their offspring as much as a damn roach does. Living in Thailand, I have the giant ones here and we respect each other – believe it or not. When you have learned your ties to Nature and the universe, you will understand things you never thought of before in your life. Ah – nature.

Hubert Reeves Quote

“Man is the most insane species. He worships an invisible God and destroys a visible Nature. Unaware that this Nature he’s destroying is this God he’s worshiping.”

Sounds crazy? No it is not. When I sit in Nature, I listen for the messages, the birds seem to bring, the trees seem to whisper in the wind and the vibes I get. I center and ground and become one with Gaia, our Mother Earth. And then there is that inner calm voice that starts to speak, my inner Divine given to me by the highest Divine, Our Almighty God and father.I have yelled at him in the past, I have told him I hated him, when things did not go my way,I have ignored him and his voice, but came to the conclusion, that he never left me. He let me behave in a bad way, be stubborn, be mad at him and took me through many bad and good lessons – but one thing he never did, no matter how I acted – he never ever left me, even when I left him !!!

So you, as a Christian want to crucify me for being a witch? Let me tell you something. What have you done today, other than feeling sorry for yourself and be miserable? You look at a glass half empty and are afraid of loss, I look at a glass half full and am happy with what I have. Have you rescued anyone or anything today? I do it daily and do not have to think about it twice. Whether it is the old beggar who is drunk most of the time because he just wants to die. Have you looked into his eyes or taken the time to talk to him? No??? Why not – I thought you were a God-fearing Christian. He had some bad cards dealt with him and is begging for a hand. He smells bad and is dirty, will you help him? No?? Why not??? I do not have to think about it twice, because I will pick him up, clean him up, and help him back on his feet if that is what he wants.

You want to judge us witches? We carry the torches into the dark to find those who need help finding their way back into the light, while you run to your church, praise the Lord and have nothing better to do after church but to gossip, and eyeball that cute chick or dude, that seems to be new to the congregation.

–WE ARE GOD-FEARING WITCHES–

We are witches – shadow and death walkers, destined to clean up the mess, the so-called God Fearing world creates. Do I love my trinity? You bet I do. Am I God-fearing? You bet I am. I tell you what I am not.

I am not one of those church running, two-faced individuals who pretend to love thy neighbor, but talks shit about them. I am not a person who closes her eyes to the misery of others, I will help them solve their problems. I am not selfish, nor a two-faced woman who changes her opinion with the wind and as the world turns.

This is what I am: I am a teacher and yes, I teach the poor for free, I am an animal rescuer, who will make sure her animals eat before I do, I am also proud to have the talents I have and will put them to use for the less fortunate, I am God-Fearing and loving and will extend my hand to the ones down. Don’t you ever let me catch you putting a hand on those down unless you plan on helping them up?

I am not interested in worldly pleasures and said goodbye to luxury long time ago to do what I am destined to do: Be the best witch that I can be, a lightworker who works in the dark, a teacher, a guide, a helping hand to all who need it, a voice for the voiceless and a protector, as well as a warrior.

This is my destiny and I thank God for the rocky road that I had to walk throughout my life because I would not be who I am today.

–So you think you are ready for all this?–

If you want to be a glamour bling witch, you are just a blender and pretender, but if you are serious about being a witch, this is your path and demeanor. The decision is yours. Do you just want to be cool or take it to the realm? You have a lot to think about, but whatever your decision may be, all witches will appreciate your sincerity and embrace you whether you want to join a coven or be free-flying, solitary, and eclectic. YOU have to decide which way to go. It won’t be easy, but the rewards are great, only if you are for real and sincere. Turning Tommy next door into a toad or frog is unrealistic, even though it is a nice thought.

Blessed Be, my sisters and Brothers and May the Divine, our God the Almighty show you the path you need to take.

And How was Your day?

Flowers from George

I hated cockroaches. I have always hated them.

When I was young and before I rented my very first own apartment, I had never ever seen one prior to then.

The apartment was in a run down building that was barely occupied and some apartments were so broken down, that the doors were missing and water was leaking out of pipes, that had been fixated to not flood the building and were leading the water elsewhere.

 It was eerie, really, really eerie – BUT – it was a place to call home after a 19 hours flight and a new start in life, when I was still a wild child and rather disorderly, a rebel of society sort of speaking.

I saw no reason to waste money on a hotel or motel, not even a hostel, especially since I did not have much of it anyway.

Money, always money- whoever invented that needs to be shot.

When I entered the outskirts of Tacoma, Washington, I asked the taxi driver, who was an older and a bit scary looking guy with a scruffy face, if he knew of apartment buildings, that would rent quickly and without checking on credit, since I had none and just relocated to the USA.

He answered: “Child, this is the US of A and there are plenty of buildings, but the budget you named is not enough for a very good area, only for the lesser pretty part of town.”

Naive, young and dumb as I was, I said: “OK, so take me there please.”

The streets became darker and less friendly. We drove through an industrial area that looked like a ghost town out of a really scary horror movie and I felt my heart drop a little towards my knees.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre from 1974 came to mind, as did The Fog.

 I caught myself looking around and expecting something to jump out from somewhere.

What if the Cabby was really a monster or zombie and just disguised himself? All possibilities of being murdered entered my mind and now I was really scared, especially since he was being so quiet and had a determined and grim look on his already a little scary looking face.

I found myself clearing my throat and asking in a very quiet, shy and shaky little girl’s voice:

 “Are we there yet?” He did not answer.

 Maybe he did not hear me, so I asked again, just a little louder: “Are we there yet?”

He put on the breaks very harshly, turned around with a very angry look on his face and said:

“Does it look like we are there yet?”

He realized that he pushed it a bit hard when I saw the surprised look on his face, as tears were running down mine.

 I did not expect this at all and was tired, hungry, a bit afraid, because I was all alone on a different continent, where I only spent a few years in my very early childhood and did not have much memory of it at that. But it was home and I wanted to be there.

Growing up in Europe was not easy and I never felt, I belonged there, especially since I looked different from the rest of my family and was treated accordingly also, and not always in a good way. While my family had blond,light brown hair and greyish, blue and green eyes with a very light skin, I contrasted them with very dark eyes, black hair and easy to tan skin, that made me look so different from them.

 I never questioned it, at times I even thought I was adopted, and while growing up with my grandparents, I enjoyed the best Education that money could buy, including the schools that teach you how to eat, walk, talk and how to act around other people.

God, how I hated having that big ass bible on top of my head to learn how to balance while walking or while sitting at the table trying to eat, with two more books, one under each arm.

Am I a princess or why did they put me through this?

As it turned out much later, I was no princess, but they tried to change my heritage without realizing that they could not change the spots on a leopard.

I have to give it to them, they really, really tried – hard!

I found out many years later, that I am half gypsy and THAT was unacceptable to the rest of the family and their environment. That was the reason, they were constantly yelling at my mother and making her cry.

So that is why my father was never allowed at our house. I was too small to understand, but I did understand the sense of evilness and unacceptance floating around.

I watched my mom slowly deteriorate over the years after she was forced to divorce him and she never was the same again.

 I was too young to really understand back then what was going on, so I did not question things, but I did catch the ugliness of that situation.

I decided at that point and right then and there to leave as soon as I was old enough and I did – quietly, not telling anyone, because I would have never made it out of there, since my grandma, the reigning house dragon, as she was lovingly called, was lining up the young studs to marry me and get me out of her house and away from her having to be responsible for me.

I was just a teenager, for Christ sake. This was MY life and MY choice, and I needed to do whatever it took to get away.

I played organ for money in churches during masses, I played waitress at several cafe’s and did whatever I could do for work to remove my unwanted self from the situation I was living in.

And finally the day had come: I had enough for a one way ticket to Tacoma, wherever the hell that was, and booked it. I just had one thought on my mind: Away from a family that really did not want me there, but simply tolerated me and flying into freedom.

Why did they not just leave me with my parents and insisted instead that I grow up with them?

 I got all those answers much later in my life, but that is another story.

So, anyway, I heard Nick, the Cabby say: “I am so sorry, I did not want to frighten you, but I hate this area. Too much trouble, too much crime, but it is a shortcut to save you money, because the regular way would have been 10 miles or more. We will be at the other side of town in a few minutes.

As it turned out upon arrival and the initial introduction, his friend managed this run down building and as we drove up to it, I thought:

 “OH – MY – GOD!”

I heard of graffiti, but never saw it in real life and here it was in all of its glory. Actually it was not bad looking in my opinion, I convinced myself.

After all, this was going to be home for a short while.

Marcus, Nick’s friend was an older, toothless guy, but very nice and he apologized right away for the condition of the building.

 The owner, he told me, cared less about it and now he was left renting to low income people, but that everyone in the building was one big happy family.

Cool, so I can breathe normal again.

My new stable was on the fourth floor and looked clean on the first look and even though, the pipes were outside of the walls, which I never saw before, it looked, – well -, almost cozy.

Marcus asked me if I needed some furniture to get started and I told him I cannot afford them yet. He answered: “No problem, I have a storage full of them, they are almost new and you are welcome to them.”

This turned out to be a great new start, I thought.

 I opened the cabinets and all was clean. I found the broom closet and saw a stack of newspapers, that were left behind in the top area and pulled it down – along with hundreds of cockroaches of all sizes, that covered me and were all over my body.

I screamed in horror and both Nick and Marcus hurried up and tried to get them off me.

Once I recovered from that shock, Marcus immediately called the exterminator to take care of the problem. More to this later.

To get back on track to the here and now, and leaving all the gory details in between out for the moment, I ended up relocating to Thailand seven years ago still hating cockroaches with a passion.

That was until I saw the movie “Joe’s Apartment” a couple of years back.

Hmm, kind of cool, I thought. I stumbled across that movie by accident and after watching it, I saw cockroaches in a whole new light.

So very recently and just a few days ago, as I was preparing dinner for my husband, I felt as if someone was watching me.

I looked up and saw the biggest and seriously majestic looking cockroach ever in my life on the upper part of my kitchen wall.

Thailand does not just have roaches, they have the supersize cockroach, that spent years in the gym to built muscles like Arnold Schwarzenegger and that will walk away with your entire plate if given the chance.

The feelers of that thing on my wall were curiously swaying and I did not dare move, remembering my little adventure from Tacoma years ago with horror – still.

He just sat there and I just stood there staring at him. He did not move, but I felt a sense of calmness coming from him.

So I continued to prepare dinner, after realizing, that he posed no threat. He watched me the whole time and when I served dinner and returned the dishes to the kitchen sink, he was gone.

This repeated itself every evening for weeks and it may sound crazy, but we had a silent understanding, that I won’t kill him and he won’t come near me.

Since we live in this rural environment with all kind of animals, critters and crawlers, which include scorpions, snakes, as well as very beasty army and fire ants, all the other garden roaches knew my broom, because I made it a point to be in control of my area and when they saw me coming with that thing, they would turn around and angrily stomp away, so it seemed.

They did not really want to continue to make the acquaintance with that broom, and preferably stayed in their area, while I stayed in mine.

You may think this bitch here is crazy, so maybe I am, but I have learned long time ago to live with nature and not against it, which is why these creatures are allowed to live in my yard.

After all, it is US invading THEIR space and not THEM invading OURS!!!

THEY were here first.

I named my kitchen friend George and thought to myself: So this is how far you have gotten. You are having discussions with cockroaches. I caught myself talking to him and believe it or not, he was answering in his own way, but still careful and from a safe distance.  

Since I studied animal communication,I at first struggled with it, but then I started to understand George.

Having lived a life full of hatred and despise towards him so far, because of who he was, he  learned to be careful.

The thoughts kept crossing my mind, that all creatures have a purpose in life, even the most disgusting and ugliest and George let me feel, that his purpose in life was to eat the dead carcasses of lizards maybe laying around somewhere, the garbage and nasty, dead stuff, that makes us sick, when left laying around for too long and that could seriously kill or make my rescued eleven dogs and nine cats very ill.

He was not trying to invade my space. He did what he was destined to do and accepted the fact that he had to share his space with humans, that had invaded his.

All of the sudden I understood.

George visited every evening, sat in the same spot with his feelers curiously swaying, and I actually was looking forward to his presence.

There always was a sense of calmness entering when he was around. Strange, very, very strange.

Then, one evening, I noticed he was not there and I was wondering, why not.

After all he should know, that I was not going to harm him.

 I caught myself seriously looking for him, how weird.

A few days later I found him laying on his back in a corner behind a decorative cup. I knew right away it was him because of his color and size. He looked and acted different from the other ones outside.…

The strange thing was, he had a very small flower next to him and his two front legs embraced it, as if he wanted to bring it to me.

Unbelievable, I felt tears coming up and choking me and the sense of having lost a very good friend.

Weird? No, it took a cockroach to finally having understood the purpose of all living beings and respecting them, no matter what or who they are.

And how was your day?

JULY 3, 2019BY TEACHINGANDSINGING

Sissy – From Tramp To Lady

Once upon a time, there was a gorgeous four-legged, black fur nose without a name in the same shelter, we were still working at.
They called her “Dam”, which is Thai for Black.

I had been so busy with trying to figure out how to get Loki out of there and thinking about how to convince my hubby, who was dead set on NOT adopting any more animals, that I did not realize, he had long set his eyes on another pup.

I was in Loki’s run when my hubby came to me and asked me to follow him since he wanted to show me something in area B, which was the back part of the shelter and mainly the rescued fur noses from the illegal dog meat trade were kept there.

I was in that area every day and could not imagine, what he wanted to show me, that I did not already know.

There were so many runs, and some of the personalities of the dogs did not match with each other. It was my job back there to observe and start pairing the dogs with more suitable friends.

My hubby lead me to a run, that was aside from the others and more hidden, but that was because of the way Area B was built, not to hide dogs.

And there she was – kept in check and pushed in the corner by the others, who were all very friendly dogs, but somehow did not like “Dam”.

We entered the run and very carefully sat on the bamboo table for a while and let the pack smell us and determine for themselves, that we were friends and meant no harm.

“Dam” was in an open cage way to small for her and started to sneak out, as the other dogs were busy with us. I felt a wet nose from behind on my arm and realized, it was “Dam” trying to see who we were.

When the other dogs realized she was near, they snarled and growled at her and chased her back into that small cage, where she just cowered and shook vividly with fear.

It is no wonder, I never noticed her before, if she was being intimidated like this and always hiding.

My hubby told me, he had spotted her a few days ago, as she was being chased by the others and did exactly the same thing.

As he was walking by, her eyes caught the eyes of my hubby and seemed to beg to get her out of there! He stopped dead in his tracks and she came to the front gate and looked deep into his eyes with a look that could have melted melt the heart of stone.
Needless to say, he fell in love instantly!

We started to spend time in that run every day after we finished our work and she very shyly observed us from her hiding place, but with curiosity in her eyes. Finally, we talked to the director of the shelter and asked if we could take her home.

With over 600 dogs around it is hard to know each one of them and we had to show her whom we meant, as some of them are really hard cases, especially coming from the dog meat trade.
She agreed and “Dam” was taken out of the run and taken to the clinic area, where she was bathed and put in a large cage to dry off and settle down, as well as to be observed for any sign of illnesses for a few days.

At that time, I did not want to ask about Loki and my tears started to fill my eyes, as I now saw zero chance for Loki to join our family.

The day had come, where we could take “Dam” home and we decided to change her name to Sissy, which she seemed to accept right away, because the first time we called her new name, her ears perked right up.

How would our pack react to a newcomer and more importantly, after the experiences Sissy made in the shelter for Lord knows how long, how would she react?

Sissy’s Arrival At Her New Home

Living in the boonies with nothing but jungle, rice fields, and neighbors who looked at the “Farangs”, (which expats are called here in Thailand), like we were from another planet, it is needless to say, that our house was an old warehouse and just fixed up to live in.
Being in animal rescue, there are no luxury items, other than a TV, that, if not too tired, is watched occasionally.
We did have computers and internet there and my husband was able to set up a fraction of our recording studio, which with the work we were doing, was hardly ever used anymore.

I had taken a break from teaching to give my entire time to animal rescue and it was a nonstop job.

The day we brought Sissy home, the neighbors were burning garbage in their garden and our house smelled of burned plastic among other fine poisoned fumes.
Opening the windows was useless, as more of those fumes would have entered.

Something about these smells seemed to frighten Sissy and when turned loose in the house, she instantly looked for a place to hide.

The first acquaintance she made was with Shadow, our old black cat we brought from Germany.
They looked at each other and Shadow hissed and Sissy snapped at her and nipped her in the behind.
That was enough saying hello for Shadow and she ran into another room.

Sissy was not seen for hours and she must have found a really good spot because we could not find her.

As dinner time rolled around, I was cooking for hubby and the clan and the smell of delicious chicken drove Sissy out of her hiding place.
I tried to get close to her, but she was not having any of that yet.

The surprising part was when she saw or heard my husband, she would run and hide instantly again – and that after flirting with him so shamelessly at the shelter.

When I served my hubby his dinner and then all the animals, she realized there was something for her as well. She slowly crawled towards her food in her bowl and shrugged with every noise she heard and looked around scared.

The Rimklong Gang, as we call our four-legged clan, seemed to know that Sissy still needed that time to adjust and did not even look at her.

We observed her without her knowing it and saw, that she would snag a piece of food and run with it. That is when we realized how repressed she must have been for such a long time by all the other dogs living with her in the past.

The days went by and we had given Sissy all the room she needed and wanted to adjust and she still would not come near us.

We had a big fenced yard with two huge water tanks in it and fenced in very high. We even put chain link fence over the top as a roof to ensure none of our gang would get out and nothing would come in, especially since there were a number of cats as well, that we took care of, other than our own and they loved to climb.

If you think, there is no difference between rural and domestic cats, you are dead wrong.
These guys are most creative in developing ways to escape and with all the cobras and scorpions among centipedes and other nice creatures around, that was something we did not want or need, since the next vet or civilized city was 45 minutes drive away, just like the next 711…lol.
Sissy discovered that yard and would not come in anymore for that day.
She was quite comfortable behind the tanks and among the hundreds of spiders that lived there.
Then she heard a Thai man yell at something and like speed lightning, she shot out from behind the water tanks and ran into the house cowering and shaking in the corner.
That was the first time I was able to pick her up and tried to calm her and told her, that everything was alright.
By the way, her body was reacting, I felt that she wanted to believe me, but had severe issues with trusting me.

She seemed not so frightened of women, but she panicked when she heard the Thai language spoken or yelled by men. She definitely had issues with all men. Furthermore, she only needed to see my husband and off she went into hiding.
My husband was a little confused, especially after she had flirted with him so shamelessly and he just said to her: “So you just used me to get out of there, huh?”
She just threw him that look as if she wanted to say: “Yeah and you were stupid enough to help me, and now you can kiss my Heini” … lol.

The days and months went by and Sissy adjusted quite well, even though she kept pacing, and pacing, and pacing without a break on a daily basis.
She never barked and we got to know her quite well, even though she still kept her distance.

When she thought we were not looking, she started to play with the others and rolled on the floor or her favorite red couch, but as soon as she realized she was being watched, she went right back into her old behavior.
We also noticed, that she was well trained in climbing and gracious show movements and started to try to find out her past. Of course, there was not much to find out and we realized since she came from the illegal dog meat trade, that she must have been someone’s pet at some time and was stolen, maybe. We also learned after quite a bit of research, that she survived a fire in a different shelter among 80 other dogs. All of the other animals living there, unfortunately, were killed and after that second horrible ordeal, she finally ended up at the shelter we were working at.

She always seemed to look for something, as she sniffed in the air constantly while on her pacing routine.

My husband still could not get near her and me? She occasionally treated me with her attention, but on her terms. We continued to give her all the space and time she seemed to still need.

Loki’s Arrival

Then the day came where Loki finally joined us. I was so thankful that my husband finally agreed, after seeing the special bond Loki and I had and still have.

THAT was the turning point for Sissy. A friend out of the same place, with similar experiences, was what she needed to open up.
Sissy and Loki became the best of friends and she even started to be silly with all the other animals.

It was love at first sight and a wonderful experience for us to see how an abused dog finally opens up.

Then she found her bark again and what a bark it was. That was not a ladylike bark, but more the roaring of a dog that was in the process of finding itself again.
That bark left no misunderstanding but an “I am a dog – just hear me roar”.

Our time at the shelter had come to an end and it was time to move on, so we packed up all of our belongings, which was not much other than the recording studio and all the animals and moved to a different part of Thailand.

Sissy seemed to sense that it was time to move on and voluntarily went into her big crate together with Loki. Her eyes had a look of anticipation and happiness much to our surprise.
After a very long and endless seeming ride across Thailand with two moving trucks, we finally arrived at our new destination about 18 hours later and all the animals were gems and very patient during that journey.

Of course, we had stopped for plenty of bathroom, food and water breaks and all of them behaved like the perfect children, knowing that this was the beginning of a new chapter.
Once turned loose at the new house with that huge yard, there was so much to discover and all of them ran around like silly children sniffing and exploring their new home.

We kept the cats inside for a few days to give them time to adjust, and they were quite thankful for that. After all, that gave them time to explore the house and think of all kind of silly stuff to do.

Now it came to another turning point for Sissy, and she started to show interest in my husband.
By now two years had gone by, and she started to sniff at him, when he was laying down, even to the point of snuggling next to him, when he was sleeping, maybe realizing he wasn’t so bad after all. She and I had developed a great relationship, and she no longer ducked when one of us moved.

Then the big day came and Sissy finally overcame her fear and came to my husband voluntarily, shyly licking his hand.

It took a few more months for her to fully trust him, but today she rewards him with hundreds of kisses and snuggles and flirts shamelessly with him when she wants something.
She had learned to trust and today she even comes near our friends and shows no more signs of fear.

She vividly defends this property against the mailman and delivery people and is all dog – finally. The tramp became a lady and what a lady she is !!!

And How Was Your Day?

Just another day in Paradise

December 01, 2019

Another hot and humid day in my home of choice – Thailand.
I had been woken up by the screaming of two birds, that obviously did not know how to share this huge insect they’d found and were fighting over it, while the insect decided to make a run (or flight) for it.
Here comes the old German saying to mind:
 “When two quarrel, the third is happy.”

These two mynah birds really were at it to a point where even all of my nine very naughty rescue cats would stay away.
After all, they already had enough experience with these birds to know not to mess with them.
To a cat trying to catch a small bird, there is nothing worse than THAT bird yelling for his bigger friends, which arrive instantly with screaming and by the dozens to bomb on them.

So here I was, waiting patiently on my coffee maker to finish brewing that so desperately needed life elixir to wake up not only my body, but my senses as well.
Somehow I get the feeling, that a part of getting older is waking up in stages instead of as a whole, the way it used to be – which reminds me…where on earth did I put my glasses?

After all, today was laundry day, and all the blankets of the animals living here needed to be washed.
Since we are a private shelter with free roaming animals on the premises instead of caged and neither funded nor sponsored, we don’t have an over abundance of supplies, and I just have to wash more often.
Oh joy…I really am looking forward to that.

At least, all I have to do is fill up the washing machine and let her do all the work, and that about seven times for the day.

Being also an online teacher, I have a pretty good routine, which allows me to juggle the job, the household, the music and the animals nicely throughout the days and being the witch that I am, it even leaves room for that occasional “thank you ritual” and daily witch’s hour of power (prayer), as well as the Reiki practices for the animals when needed.

Excited at the thought to have clean blankets again, the dogs surrounded the washer and me to watch the process and very cooly; I tried to demonstrate how things are done around here.
Why was I explaining to them, how a washing machine works?

My big boy Loki stood up on his hind legs to look inside of the washer, that ate his blanket; (he thought) and wagged his tail, when he discovered his blanket was still alive.
I had to explain to him that the washer was neither his new bed, nor could he drag his blanket out of there.
God, how he reminded me of Marmaduke.

Is that coffee done yet?

These 14-hour days sometimes make me forget about some things…like the coffee, I started to brew.

A loud honking at the gate prompted all 11 ferocious watchdogs to race each other to the front, one faster and louder than the others with the smallest one kg loudmouthed Chihuahua named Leo being the leader, followed by dancing girl Chili.
Both are not bigger than an attitude, much less have one.

Oh yes, it was Lazada delivery….I forgot about them.
And where did I put my coffee, or did I even pour a cup yet?

After paying the man outside the gate and bringing my package into the house followed by my bodyguards, I found my empty coffee cup.
Time to sit for a moment and enjoy this flavorful magical, lifesaving elixir called coffee… so I thought.

In the meantime, the dogs were enjoying the sunshine and the garden, when suddenly a rumbling sound came from the direction washing machine, which I had filled up with some of the blankets a little earlier.

That thing sounded like it was about to explode, and Loki came running and jumping into my arms like: “Mommy, mommy, there is a spitting monster in the garden, please make it go away.”
Well, that was pretty courageous, considering we are talking about a dog that is scared of spiders and other creepy little crawlers.
After all, those huge butterflies co-existing with us here have scared the living hell out of my poor boy on more than one occasion.
I really should have called him Marmeduke, he is as lovable and twice as clumsy.

And to think, I was just about to pour that coffee and enjoy it. With a sigh, I put down my still empty cup to see what was wrong with the washer and – oh boy – I guess that was it.
That thing was on its last breath and after a few coughing sounds it just kind of folded.

Wonderful – the first batch of blankets soaking in water with 6 more loads to go looked at me; it seemed, with a grin to tell me, that I am back to basics and get to do this by hand.

Living pretty rural at the edge of the jungle, of course there was no laundromat near by and why should there be…the next 7-eleven was a few miles away as well.

I felt a big wave of stress coming on and where the hell was my coffee? Oh, right, I have not had any yet!

I took a very deep breath with 11 pairs of eyes staring at me, no – 20 pairs of eyes, because the cats were watching this scenario as well from a safe distance.
That rumbling, smoking and fire spitting square thing was something they did not really want to make an acquaintance with.

I dragged my tired, (and not having had any coffee yet), behind to the bungalow to get that big tub out, that I used before when my first washer exploded. That seems to be the norm here after two years with washing machines.

When I turned on the water hose to fill up that black plastic tub, the hose slipped off the tap, and the water splashed everywhere.
One way to wake up without having had any coffee yet, I thought. Lucky this is Thailand, and it stays hot, so a little lukewarm splash is a welcome cool-off even in the weirdest of situations.

My goodness, I realized that my courageous gang of dogs was made of sugar, because they had scattered in all directions to avoid that dangerous stream of water.

So here I was, soaking wet, still without coffee and feeling just a teenzie weenzie bit irritated at this glorious Monday morning.

What the heck, with my hardworking hubby still sleeping, and not getting any of this commotion, I suddenly felt really alone and just wanted to cry.

Nevertheless, then again, I realized that an earthquake could not wake him unless the bed was pulled from under him, and he deserves his well-earned sleep after a hard day in the recording studio.

So I ended up putting these wet blankets into the tub and started to walk on them.
The dogs were looking at me like I lost my mind, the cats were courageous and tried to put their paws on the blankets only to pull them back really fast realizing…YUCK…THAT was water!!!

I kept walking on these blankets for at least half an hour and thought of my Zumba classes.

Did I even have coffee yet? I don’t think so.

Finally done with that wash, I looked around me and realized, that I was alone, no cats, no dogs … hmmm, how very weird!

After hanging the blankets up to dry, I finally went to get my well-deserved delicious cup of coffee and to check on hubby …. well, well, well, what did I find?

11 dogs and 9 cats all snuggled up on my side in the bed hugging my blanket, since they didn’t have any at this time.

Oh well, I guess, I will sleep in the doggie basket tonight.

And How Was Your Day?

The Becoming Of Loki

It was a rather cold day about 3 years ago and I was working at an animal sanctuary at the time.

The stories of some of the dogs and cats were rather heartbreaking and new ones were being dumped on a daily base in every imaginable rice field or near the sanctuary on the open roads.

The sanctuary was already way overcrowded, but the number of newbies was growing almost daily.

We had some volunteers arrive from Germany and it seemed to be just another day at the rescue.

Everyone was going by their business and doing their daily chores, when a truck arrived with an in dark blue plastic covered cage on it.

It was driven by a farm worker who was performing her daily duties in a rice field and came across this big, in plastic wrapped package.

She usually would have not paid more attention to it, because things like that are found on a daily base, but this package made weak, little noises and when she peaked through a small hole, she found the most pathetic looking bunch of puppies, she had ever laid eyes on.

She wasted no time, dropped everything she was doing and loaded the cage onto her truck to bring the puppies to us.

Upon her arrival, we gathered around her truck to unpack this mysterious package – and my heart almost stopped.

My eyes filled with tears and I could not stop them from vividly running down my face.

Oh God, why do you allow things like this to happen?

Too weak to even move their heads, five puppies, no more than maybe 3-4 weeks old and covered in filth, were trying to cuddle with each other for some comfort.

A food bowl with an unidentifiable and moving something was in the middle of that cage, no water and the poor pups covered on feces and giving out a smell, that would have knocked the strongest bull over.

We pulled them out one by one and they slowly opened their weak eyes and looked at us so scared and started to duck, as if they were about to be beat.

Any fast movement on our side made them shake with fear.

Whoever did this to such innocent fur babies, deserves nothing short of the worst life has to give.

They were so frightened, so fragile – and so sweet and all of our hearts just melted.

I had never seen more pathetic little creatures, yet with such a strong will to live, that they survived the unmerciful Thailand sun for days, being locked up and additionally wrapped in plastic.

Someone hurried and went to get some water and these pups drank so much of that much needed liquid, they started to look like balloons.

Their fur itself looked, like it was twitching and we discovered an army of fleas and ticks on them.

So first things first – a flea and tick bath.

Our volunteers had never seen anything like this and were still in shock, but managed to get over it after one stopped vomiting.

The woman was fine, it was the man, who could not handle this site and that god awful smell.

But then we know, some men also need a gas mask to change a baby’s diaper…lol.

I gently grabbed the first one, which was a blond little girl with very wiry hair and the fleas just ran across me as well.

She thoroughly enjoyed her massage and while the flea and tick shampoo was soaking in, I started with puppy number two.

The man had watched and wanted to try to accomplish this heavy duty task as well and sat on the floor with puppy number three – and fell in love instantly.

The woman took puppy number four and we shared the last one.

We had to let the shampoo settle for a while, because that army of fleas and ticks was not about to give up their host that easy.

As the fleas were dying and the pups were itching less, they perked up a little, realizing that they now were in safety, and here came the first, very shy wagging of their tales.

I believe it was already at that moment, that I fell in love with Loki and he must have known, because he perked up and looked straight at me.

No, I can not take more dogs, I thought to myself, my husband will shoot me, we already had six dogs and 2 cats at that point.

But I did not expect the cleverness of Loki at a later point, who was determined to become my everything.

We found a small, unused dog run near the house owned clinic on the premises, that was perfect for puppies in their first stages of puppyhood and made it comfortable for them.

They were exhausted after that complete ordeal, but still needed to eat, so we prepared a mixture of soft and dry food enriched with vitamins and everything a weakened puppy heart needed and desired when hungry.

Did I say puppy?

It was more like vacuum cleaners when we put the big bowl down, because it did not even take 15 seconds before it was empty and they were still looking for more.

I had to decline, because after not eating for days, it is important not to overfeed or their little systems would have not been able to take it and would have shut down.

Time to go to sleep for them and for us.

We left the run and stood outside looking in and watching these innocent, sweet little creatures settle themselves in for the night. I bet that was the first night in days they could really rest. I fell in love even more and seriously started to hate people, because it was and still is beyond me, how any human being is able to perform such cruelty to innocent living beings.

The next days were crucial, because puppies at that age could carry the  Parvo Virus or Distemper among many other deadly diseases, especially in Thailand and being taken away from their mother too early, will raise that chance immensely.

They were much too young to vaccinate and for a few days it was touch and go. We spent a lot of time with them observing, playing, naming and categorizing them for the administration.

Luckily they were healthy and did not seem to carry much memory of their ordeal after a few days.

They did what puppies do best – eat, sleep a lot, play insanely with each other and I spent a lot of time every day with them, after I finished with all the other animals.

Somehow these guys seemed different and they were growing and becoming stronger by the second, it seemed.

The pups were now about 6 weeks old, vaccinated with their first set of shots and very strong, but most of all, so cute and adorable and when they looked at us, it was like they could do nothing wrong.

They were so innocent – I thought.

Then, one day, when we were eating lunch in the workers area, not too far from the puppy run, I heard a heartbreaking yelping coming from that area. I dropped my fork, my plate fell on the ground, which the dogs in the front area appreciated a lot, and ran to the puppy run.

Four puppies were trying to pull number five apart in all directions, which was Loki and he was screaming so pathetically, it tore my heart in two. I picked him up and noticed big tears in his eyes and he had a droopy and pouting lip, which I have never seen on any animal before – ever. He sobbed and looked at me with his tear-filled eyes and I promised him, I will get him out of there.

Little did I know that my husband, who definitely did not want any more dogs, had long flirted already with another dog, but I will save that for the next story.

After a couple of days in the clinic, Loki’s wounds had healed and he was returned to his siblings. I spent time with them day after day and it was not long before Loki screamed again.

He must have known at what times I was near, because it did not matter what time it was, this happened always when I was near the run.

I pulled him out and away from his siblings again and again and again and each time he looked at me with those beautiful tear-filled eyes and that pouting lip along with a sobbing that could melt a stone.

We had long adopted the other dog and now it was like: how do I convince my husband to take one more?

Loki was allowed from that point on to roam free, as long as I was on the premises and he never, ever left my site. He knew when it was time to go inside the clinic to sleep, which was always around the time, when I had to leave the sanctuary. He was content with that as long as he got to see me the next day.

It was a weekend and the director had to leave town, so I asked, if I could take Loki home to see if he gets along with the other gangsters, that already long stole our hearts and lived with us.

Needless to say, he knew what time it was and was already on that motorbike we used for transportation, before I could tell him the great news.

Like a champ and proud as can be, he sat between my husband and me and seemingly enjoyed that ride.

Upon arrival at our house, he acted, as if he never lived anywhere else and the others accepted him right away, cats included.

The bed became his favorite place and he only left it reluctantly and under much protest.

Monday morning came and it was time to take him back to the shelter.

Upon arrival, the other free roaming dogs tried to attack him and shred him to pieces, so my softhearted husband took him back to our house and we informed the director of what was going on.

Loki already had convinced my husband that he was the perfect dog to have around and the kindhearted director allowed him to be adopted by us and so Loki moved in.

By time I had gotten home, he had made himself a corner with a blanket, all the toys he could get his paws on and a bunch of dry dog food, he had carried into his food bowl portion by portion.

Up to this day, I still wonder, what he told his sisters and brothers, if he gave up his food portions and what he told the other dogs living free in the front ???

Today I am his whole world and he is mine and we are like 2 peas in the pod. The others have accepted, that he has somewhat the stand of the leader and he will let everyone know that he is the boss.

I still do wonder what goes on in the heads of these dogs, when they decide they want a particular person as their forever friend, maybe one day I will know.

Today I am convinced, that this all was planned by Loki, because he is one of the smartest dogs, I have ever met and I really would not put it passed him. 🙂

And how was your day?