Duck Shares the Puddle

The rain rains all morning. Pat, pat, pat on the leaves. Pat, pat, pat on the mud. Then the rain stops, the way rain does — all at once, like it heard its name.

And there in the meadow shines one perfect puddle. Round as a pancake. Shiny as a mirror. Deep as a duck’s knees. Who sees it first?

Dodo the duck sees it first. “Mine!” says Dodo. “My puddle. All mine.”

He hops in with both feet. Splish. Dodo blinks. He jumps higher. Splish. He tries his biggest bottom-bump. Splish. One little ripple tickles the reeds.

Along comes Tiber the frog, hopping hopefully. “Room for me?” “My puddle. All mine.” So Tiber sits on a stone, with his toes pointed at the water.

Along comes Nib, a very small, very damp mouse. His whiskers drip. “Room for me?” “My puddle. All mine.” So Nib sits beside Tiber. Dodo flaps and stomps. Splish. One drop lands on his own bill.

The puddle looks big. The splashes sound small. Dodo looks at Tiber’s pointed toes. He looks at Nib’s droopy whiskers. He looks at all that water with nobody in it. Hmm.

“Actually,” says Dodo, “this puddle is much too big for one duck.” He pats the water. “Our puddle. All ours.”

Tiber hops in. Splash! Nib cannonballs in. Sploosh! Dodo jumps highest of all. Splish, splash, SPLOOSH! The water jumps up like silver confetti. The puddle makes its big sound at last. It was waiting for everybody.

They splash and splash until the splashes are all splashed out. Splash. Splish. Plip.

Then three soggy friends flop in the warm grass, side by side by side, drying their ears and toes and feathers in the sun.

“Good puddle,” says Dodo, sleepy. “Best puddle,” says Tiber. Nib is already asleep.

The End