Like a well oiled tractor?
If you have ever been to the Olde Fogie Farm, you would have to admit, (considering everything that happens) most everything occurs decently and by arrangement. As concierge, it is my concern and preference that everything operates like a well oiled tractor. At one time it wasn't certain if I was the right mouse for the job. Now it's not known if the Olde Fogies could get by without me. I'm the new kid, Spencer Tracer. In all fairness to your memory I haven't always been here. Before the farm, I was in the movies. Have you seen the one about the sheep herding pig Babe? Maybe even Babe: pig in the city? Well then, we're acquainted. I was in the trio of chorus mice that announced the many adventures of Babe. Show business was a grand time until the adventures ran out. So I laced up my gum shoes and intrepidly followed the good times. I have long admired the legendary private investigators like Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe, and my favorite - Guy Noir. You know Guy? He's the hero of a weekly radio drama part of A Prairie Home Companion. You know... the guy searching for "the answers to life's persistent questions - Guy Noir, private eye." It wasn't long before one of those persistent questions put me on a tough case.
There was someone special in my life who was in need of a romantic getaway. Seemed easy enough, but on a shoe string budget this proved a tough nut to crack. High and low, nothing exhibited that certain charm. It was a real puzzler. Then, the Olde Fogie Farm surfaced with its prestigious 4 pig rating. It didn't take long to make a reservation or much longer to begin having a lovely time. I was on vacation and all things considered ought to have ignored when a loudmouthed rooster started talking a lot of baloney.
The true reason for the Olde Fogie's success as B&B hosts is an often discussed topic. Over the years there has been some colorful speculation. Then last year a rather rambunctious Rochester R. Rooster claimed it was all about him. In my opinion, the Olde Fogies are pretty sharp cookies. So when he crowed it was all on account of them attending sleep learning classes of which he was an illustrious professor, you bet I was suspicious. I mean this character had some flaws: claimed credit for ideas before his time, claimed to have been to hollywood and yet couldn't name a movie (I was there and never heard of him.) It was either a lot of hot air, some happy horse manure or both. In short time I was on the case.
Tailing that rooster took me in circles as he scratched through the same flower bed again and again. I shared a bit of pleasant chit chat with the hens who confirmed the rooster was a bit vain and "oh, so dreamy." I was going to cross-examine the cat, but decided he might be a hostile witness. Supping with the pig didn't go anywhere. We never left the restaurant and what awful table manners! Finally, talking with the turkeys proved frank and straightforward. All in all, it turns out that while being quite a colorful yarn, the rooster spun it correctly. He's honest... just ain't humble.
The case was closed. I was blue. I was really liking the joint and couldn't bear to leave the fun. I asked to help out on the farm. The Fogies agreed. I tried to be nonchalant, but in the end gave way to feeling like a kid who had been invited to join the circus!
At first I volunteered to help carry your luggage. I tackled it eagerly, but didn't get very far. I am a little guy and those suitcases weren't. Then Biz suggested that I could help in the garden pulling weeds. I again tackled that, but size was again an issue. I would sweat, huff and puff, but I ain't no Paul Bunion.
Then I settled into the job which suits me best. I help collect feathers for the letters, answer the phone, and take reservations. I am here for the Olde Fogies ever ready to whisper in their ears all manner of nifty suggestions. I offer places to go, things to see, great restaurants. You know, all the usual concierge stuff. At first Biz didn't know what one of those was - or even that she needed one. In fact, she still forgets and performs my duties herself! She can't help it, she just loves talking with you folks.
Have you seen me? If you look very closely when checking in you might. I'm right there behind the desk, an attractive, mysterious mouse in a brown mackintosh. If you don't notice that's okay it's probably the sunglasses. Sunglasses, are the way all the hollywood types keep their fabulous incognito look. As a former movie star, I have to keep myself on the low if I want to be a successful snoop. I admit that not much intrigue happens around here and few crown jewels happen to show up missing. Still, there are plenty of things to keep me busy. I have saved a lot of vacations on account of being an ace at locating missing car keys.
Then there's that dame Wootsie. They got that huge hog all wrong. Wootsie sure ain't a Babe type. Babe is a moderate pink piggy who keeps his appetite modest and will have nothing to do with any of the hypothetical Hollywood hoopla. Wootsie has left herself go and fallen to the lowest depth begging for pretzels and beer nuts. And her "nerd" fixation? Why's a nice dame go around oinking out "nerd, nerd, the name's nerd." Why? We don't know. Moreover, we're nervously awaiting an autobiography.
Now for another item of interest: you must meet my Molly. She is the aforementioned special someone that makes my life special. We have taken up residence here at the farm. What could make a sophisticated city mouse want to jump ship for the country? That in itself is a story, but the happy ending is that Molly loves farm life. Can't exactly say what convinced her. Perhaps the fresh air, the grass being greener, maybe the romantic getaway trip. Yes, maybe that - the best gift I ever gave her.
The romantic getaway season is when love birds come to roost. A season that helps one appreciate the simple pleasures of life: a homey fire, a loaf of bread, a bit of effervescence, and of course your special someone. November through March the cozy Hayloft and Chicken Coop suites are transformed into little getaway havens. The heat is turned up, the eternal burning log fire place is brought in to warm tootsies, and trundle beds are exchanged for love seats.
Soon after landing the job as the farm's concierge, I wasted no time suggesting the Olde Fogies make a big deal out of this Romantic getaway stuff. By big, I mean I suggested they welcome couples to use the coupon that came with this newsletter and enjoy a 2 night stay with the second night on the house (well, you can stay in your suites the second night.) In my opinion, everyone should get to unwind a little and enjoy a warm, cozy atmosphere with candles and the works - then wake up to a leisurely breakfast in the suite or a bright and early breakfast in Biz's farm kitchen. Take it from my Molly, her eyes sparkled like stars when I showed her to our suite (previously, she thought I had forgotten our anniversary!)
If you were to ask us if we relish the farm life, at one time we would have said it was for the birds. Now, we consider ourselves very fortunate to be here with the birds. I tell you that I'm happily wrapped up in what I do. My day job on the farm as a concierge keeps me busy making sure the Fogies look after you guests. In my off hours, I've plenty of time to snoop around. I could tell you some interesting tidbits about what goes on here. For example those dimwitted birds and the confused cat that lives in peace with them, or the fox that keeps volunteering to guard the hen house and thinks the only reason he doesn't get the job is because he's over-qualified. And of course I know a good place to take a buggy ride or where to find the county's best piece of shoofly pie. However, if you've been here already you probably know all about it. But if you want to know, just ask, I'll be hanging around the front desk.