Merl, The Kitten Who Wasn't

Disclaimer: The “story” which follows was fully intended to be a satirical play on a rather odd and somewhat unfortunate dream.  The subconscious toys and so the writer in me was called to respond. It’s humorous outsourcing and ultimate end fulfills what has become a joke and comical tale in the reality of a Wesley Woods summer.  Its cynical portrayal and bitter satire in no way reflects this author’s actual views on adoption or other means to inclusion and additions.  On the contrary, as one quite familiar with the feeling of being unable to belong, I would wholeheartedly support anything to the contrary in actuality.  It is for the sake of the story alone, I write… 

Prequel:

Cinderella.

Goldilocks.

Hansel (and/or Gretel).

Rapunzel.

The Boy (who happened to cry “wolf!”).

Aladdin (or Jasmine for that matter!).

Snow White.

The Ugly Duckling.

All bear the traumatic ties of unfortunate reality.

Oh sure, they all end “happily ever after”…or at least that’s what everyone wants you to believe.  But in actuality, the common denominator lies in the fact all are, at the core, stories of things which don’t belong. 

It’s a tragic truth of unforeseen proportions. 

In a dark world of sad consequence, it’s nice to believe that everything ends in sunshine and rainbows. 

We quote “all will be all right in the end” and that “if it is not all right, it’s not the end”.

We want to believe nothing is as bad as it seems, life will go on, and good will prevail. 

We want a reason to hope and the outcast a place to fit in with the rest.

That would be fair.

But life is not fair. 

No, the reality is much more grim.

Sometimes it is cruel and brutal.

The world is an unforgiving place with harsh certainty.

Which means that in this world, the outcasted is pushed to the side.

And sometimes the cheese does stand alone.

For in this life, there are things which just don’t belong. 

As is the case with Merl, the kitten who wasn’t…

Merl, The Kitten Who Wasn't (and other stories of things that don't belong)

Once upon a time, on a crisp dark night, a cat was traveling home to the farm where she lived.  Patches, as she was called, was heavy and round and walked slowly down the dirt road with her pregnant belly almost rubbing on the ground.  She knew her kittens would be coming very soon and she was eager to get back to the clean straw in the warm barn. 

She heard a rustling in the branches and the far off sound of an engine.  Patches paused and hissed, the hair on her back rose in fear.  Oh, if only she hadn’t agreed to one last bowl of warm milk with her sister down the way!  She had known this would be one of the last opportunities she would have to go visit with her sister, a house cat, until the kittens were weaned.  But she should have been wiser about the time she left.  Her little paws were aching and she was breathless from walking.  The kittens inside her squirmed. 

“Hold on little ones!” She said gently.  “We’re almost home!”

It was just then that a shadowy creature moved about ten paces in front of her.  She focused in to see a mother raccoon carrying one of her kits by the scruff of its neck.  She dropped it on the side of the road before going back for the second of her litter. 

“It won’t be long now…”  She thought of her own impending litter.  She could see the light from the barn up ahead.  How eager she was to return home! 

She sat for just a moment before continuing.  Was it just her or was the barn light getting brighter?  She rubbed her eyes.  It was getting brighter! And it was coming closer.  A sudden fear welled up inside of her and she felt powerless to move.

Almost out of nowhere, the moving light appeared with two blinding beams.  A truck flew over the hill and drove down the center of the road.  The mother raccoon froze in terror with her little kit, unsure of the approaching beast.  If only she had moved!  The truck smashed into her with a resounding “thud” and continued on as if nothing had transpired.  As if the power of life and death wasn’t in the clutches of those massive tires.  As if the world were infinite and actions bore no consequence.  If only…

The mother cat continued to sit in shocked horror as the dust settled.  With the cloud of smoke but a memory, she shuddered and whimpered a sad “meow” at the bloody and lifeless bodies of the raccoon and her cub in the middle of the road.  Her maternal instinct flared and she stood with a surprising amount of energy.  She must get herself and her unborn kittens home to where it was safe!

Patches walked with an impressive speed for a cat in her condition.  However, she hadn’t gone but eight or nine paces before she heard the pathetic cries of a small animal.  Of course! The first of the two raccoon cubs!  She walked a bit further and searched for the small babe. 

“Mm-mm-mother? Mmooothher?” He whimpered till at last the cat came near.

“Shush now, little one!  Tell me your name.”  She said in a worried frenzy. 

“Mm-mmear-mm-oother?”  The small raccoon cried again.

Patches looked down at its closed eyes.  “Raccoons are born deaf and blind! He can’t see me! He has no idea anything has happened! The poor dear. He musn’t be more than a week or two old…” A wave of motherly instinct swept over her.

“I’m not your mother but someone must tend to you! And if you come with me now, when you open your eyes, you’ll know me as nothing less.”  With a bout of compassion, she swept up that little raccoon kit by the scruff of his neck and began to walk the rest of the length to the barn.  The small “mews” of the little guy quieted in the presence of a mother’s care and Patches vowed to raise him as her own. 

She reached the barn, exhausted, and laid the cub down on a straw nest.  “Welcome home, young one.” She said, looking at the sleeping baby.  “I shall call you Merl…”  Then she too laid down to sleep as she was weary from her travels.

Sleep did not last long for Patches, however.  Before the night was over Patches gave birth to three perfect kittens: Whiskers, Socks, and Sue.  She gathered her four little ones together and was very proud of her small family.

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 And so the kittens grew.  It was only another two weeks before Merl opened his eyes.  When he did so, he looked lovingly at Patches, the one who had fed and cared for him, the only mother he truly knew.  In reality, Merl knew none else.  Hers was the only voice he’d ever heard.  The only face he’d ever seen.  He had no reason to believe Patches wasn’t the mother of more than just his heart.  And Patches, on her part, never said anything.  The night Merl’s real mother had died had been so traumatic.  Letting him believe she was his actual mother was truly for the best.  After all what harm could it do?  For all practical purposes, he was just like the other three!

  

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 But after a time, it was Merl himself who didn’t feel “just like the others”.  While his brother and sisters were growing to be long and slender with tall legs, his arms and legs remained short and stocky – much like the rest of his body (which was much more wide than long).  Whiskers and Socks and Sue wanted to frolic and play in the meadow during the day (with lots of time to nap of course!) but, Merl?  Merl just wanted to sleep!  It was at night he wanted to roam!  And when it came to time to eat?  Why, Merl was in to just about everything!  The other kittens were satisfied with milk and dry cereal, which was fine from time to time.  But Merl craved the crayfish from the stream or even a piece of watermelon.  Sue, especially, just thought he was “sooo weird!” 

Patches tried to praise him for his strengths.  Merl was good with his hands and had a curiosity that far surpassed her other kittens.  And he was so smart!  If he got himself into a tangle his curiosity had caused, it could be sure he would find a way out of it!  But she was becoming concerned.  How long before he started to ask questions?  Or the other kittens did?  What would she say? 

  

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 “Mother!!!” Socks cried.  “He’s doing it again!”  Patches was much better at climbing than his brother and sisters and would all but race up and down the trees. Twice Socks had followed just to prove she was as good as he was…only to get stuck and later have to be rescued by the farmer on his ladder.  Socks saw any tree climbing as mockery and teasing.

“Now Merl!”  Patches chided her son.  “Be sensitive to your sisters feelings!  Why don’t you join Whiskers in catching mice?  Or join Sue wit the ball of yarn the farmer’s wife gave to her?  Be good!”

She had watched her eldest son walk away from the tree but it wasn’t long before more cries were heard from her young kittens.

“Mother!!  Help!  He’s trapped me and he’s done it on purpose!  Help me, mother! Help!”  Patches ran exasperated and fearful towards the grain stores in the barn. Propelled by the sound of Whiskers’ muffled voice.  Merl rounded the corner as she approached. 

“Merl! Now what have you done??”  She questioned angrily. 

His eyes looked even darker behind his black mask as his sad eyes fell.  “I didn’t mean to Mama, I promise!  We were chasing mice, just like you said.  I jumped into an old grain bin and scurried that little mouse right out!  Whiskers, he followed me in!  I didn’t know he was gonna get stuck!”

“Now now, see here.  You may have not meant to but you did!  Now help your brother get out.  And then find Sue and stay out of trouble!”  This boy of hers was unlike any kitten she’d ever encountered!  Some days he was so peculiar she just didn’t know what to do!

Merl helped tip over the grain bin and released Whiskers who curled up next to his mother.  Merl walked off slowly and sheepishly until he encountered Sue.  The smallest of them all, she was cute and everyone’s favorite and therefore the most spoiled.  Like a little princess, she was eager to be better than everyone else.  Merl found her contentedly batting a ball of yarn back and forth.

“Can I join you?”  Merl asked, hoping his bratty little sister would agree to having him around.

“Yes you may.”  Sue answered surprisingly sweet and welcoming. Then her eyes narrowed in a testy challenge.  “But this is my brand new ball of yarn!  It is beautiful and perfect just like me!  And if anything happens to it, Merl!  Well, I shall never forgive you.  You must be careful!”  and with that she smiled and replied sweetly “you stand over there!”

So they batted the yarn back and forth a few times.  Merl was glad that for once no one was angry at him and continued to swat the ball.  But he was so curious!  So when Sue ran off suddenly to chase a butterfly, Merl held the ball of yarn in his hands and turned it over and over.  Without thinking, he began unraveling the tightly wound construction until all he had was a pile of string. 

Sue returned and began to sob.  “My ball!  My perfect ball!  You ruined it, Merl!  You ruin everything!  Why don’t you go open a jar or something and leave me alone!”

And so Merl cast his head down and slowly walked away.

As the days wore on, Merl was left more and more out of the activities of his siblings.  They would often go off to play and not invite him. 

“It was a game for three…”  Whiskers would explain.

“You don’t fit it in…” Socks would say emphatically.

“You’re SOO weird!”  Sue would remind him. 

His mother separated him even more, although she didn’t mean to.  One day she gave each of her kittens a brand new pair of mittens.  All except Merl that is.  “I’m sorry Merl, your hands are just too different!”

Everyday Merl felt more and more like an outsider.  He loved his mother and he loved his brother and his sisters but something told him he just didn’t belong. He wanted to be a good cat.  He didn’t know why he was so different!  He tried to fit in like the others.  He climbed in boxes and napped in the sun.  He chased mice and drank milk and tried to behave.  But it didn’t work.  At the end of the day, he wasn’t like the others.  He found himself pillaging the farmer’s trashcan at night for tasty things to eat and he slept all day.  “At least sleeping will mean I stay out of the way…”  He said with a melancholy voice. 

  

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One afternoon, Merl was down at the stream fishing for crawdads on beautiful and clear summer day.  He looked down into a pool of water that had collected between the rocks and caught his reflection.  He stopped and studied his characteristics for a while.  His tail was long with lots of stripes like Whiskers.  He had dark hands like Socks and pointy little ears like Sue.  The band which crossed his eyes reminded him a little bit of his mother’s colored patches.  But his teeth were his own.  As were his hands – far more like hands than his brother and sisters’ paws.  And his fur was thick and bushy.  Yet, what really caught him and left him stranded, were his eyes. Dark and beady.  Not like a cat’s at all… Something about his reflections, was quite wrong.  Something inside told him he didn’t belong…

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Merl ran back to the barn only to find all three of his siblings crying to their mother.  “Mother dear, see here!  See here!” Socks was saying.  “Our mittens we have lost!”

“It’s his fault!” Sue said suddenly pointing to Merl!  “He probably stole them and unraveled them just like my beautiful yarn ball!” 

Merl began to inch backwards, “I didn’t, I swear.  I didn’t do it!” 

“I’ve seen your collection of treasures!”  Whiskers accused.  “You keep it in our room! Mostly coins shiny pieces of tin and metal but I bet Sue is right.  Maybe you did steal them!”

“Why don’t you just leave!  And leave us all alone!  No one likes you!”  Socks declared through her tears.

“Now children!” Patches exclaimed horrified.  She had seen the discord but she didn’t know it had gotten this bad.  “Be kind to your brother!  Just because he is a little different…”

“But why?  Why mother?  Why am I different?”  Merl exclaimed through sobs and tears which reminded her of the cries which came from such a small raccoon the night she found him.

“Come children.  You all must listen to this.  It is far past time I told you, Merl.  Told you all.”  And so Patches sat her four kittens down and told them about the horrifying night they were born.  And about how Merl alone had survived the accident.  And how she vowed to raise him as her own.

“How could you, mother!”  Socks exclaimed.  “Raise a raccoon as your own?  You can’t!  He’s not your own!”

Sue chimed in.  “He’s not a real cat!  He’s not a cat at all.  You’re practically a weasel!”

“Some brother you are!” Whisker spat. “Adopted doesn’t make you one of us!  You don’t fit in!”

And so Merl was shunned and cast out once and for all.  It was confirmed for him that day what he’d known in his heart all along… He wasn’t a kitten and he didn’t belong. 

"Dinosaurs are my favorite so I wouldn’t care if one ate me!"

A year ago, I had a conversation with a friend who followed my “Anika the thinker” blog and decided I ought to have one to document the crazy of my days – because my life is full of crazy... and “Peanuts from the Comment Gallery” was born. Well crazy began to be pushed out by busy and the blog has been hopelessly ignored (although, looking back – those were some good posts! I would recommend them if you have some time to kill and you like your time better dead. :P). This is my current attempt to resurrect this dead blog space.

You see, over the last three months I have been working at Michindoh Outdoor Education School. While I miss interacting with my high school and young college aged charges, 5th and 6th graders are often little if not amusing. I have been subsequently documenting some of the ridiculous things I hear in any given day. I wish this were a comprehensive list but there is just no way to keep track. So, enjoy these for now and I will be back again another time for update on OE’s own amused musings.



Camper: Dinosaurs are my favorite so I wouldn’t care if one ate me! It would be the best day of my life!
Me: And your last...
Camper: (looking blissful) But what a way to go!

[at Outdoor Living Skills where students are supposed to be building shelters]
Student: Can we have a hatchet?
Another Instructor: No! This is like survival class! You wouldn’t be able to just up and find a hatchet in the wilderness!
Student: I might! If I can find a hatchet when we’re looking for logs, can we use it?

[on the Low Challenge Course where the entire group must make it across on rope swing]
Student: (completely serious) This activity is definitely applicable. Because if you’re ever in the wilderness and have to cross a ditch and all you have is a rope...then we’ll know how!
Another Instructor: Hey pal, this is the Low Challenge Course...all of these scenarios are made up...

[on low challenge course after being told they need to balance the ‘whale watch’ aka: ‘gravity defying device’ in order to escape the alien capture]
Camper: “We can’t balance it! Gah! Those aliens are so stupid!”

[at lunch after sitting down casually – just barely beginning conversation]
Me: Hey! How’s it going?!
Camper: (out of the blue and as a response) My name is Marcus and I have a third nipple.
Cabin leader: (nodding apologetically) That he does...
2nd Camper: (mystified and excited) If you see it you have to touch it! It’s weird!
Camper (aka Marcus): (completely stoked) Do you want to feel it??
Me: No...

Small girl: (walks in talking to her friend) I. Am. A. beast. A total beast. I am the definition of beast, actually...

[at Outdoor Living Skills discussing why shelters only need to be big enough for one person lying down]
Me: If you are in a survival situation what is the thing you are going to do most inside a shelter?
Boy: (raises his hand, cocks his head, exclaims) Cry...?

[on a Monday as students are unloading the bus, arriving at camp]
Girl: (grasping for the wall of the gym) We are FINALLY here! My gosh!
Girl 2: That bus ride was forever. Probably took us clear across the country. Where are we anyway?
Girl 1: I don’t care if they dropped us off in Hell! I don’t care where we are! As long as we are off that bus, that all I be caring about!

[while teaching tiedye with a wanna-be-hip boy in thigh-tight white pants that were also far too loose around the waist]
Camper: Mr. Smith – can you be pulling up my pants?
Teacher: Can I do what??
Camper: Pull up my pants! They are falling all of the way down and my hands are covered in dye!
Teacher: This is one great example of why we wear belts and pants that fit my young friend...
Camper: So you gonna pull up my pants?
Teacher: Nope!

[before class, waiting for the rest of the boys cabin to show up after two had broken out in a spontaneous fight]
Girls (discussing the boy cabin in their group, why they had been late, and other marvels of the male species): Boys! I just don’t understand them! (turning to two of the boys present) You all got a button or something? Like a reset button? Or like a “go back into the womb and try again” button??

[during Creepy class – insects, tarantulas, pictures of bugs on the walls. Couple bees nest up on the wall, etc...]
Me: So are there any questions about insects
Boy Camper 1: (*has a noticeable lisp and talks fast... raises his hand) What are those on the wall? Is that a beenes (aka: bee’s – nest)?
Boy Camper 2: (*little bit of a punk, but good kid. Teacher says he used to be the bully but is really coming around. Clearly expects a lot out of his classmates all week. Indignant, just loud enough for camper 1 to hear...) What did you say? Did you ask if that was a penis? Why you gotta be like that? That aint look anything like a penis. And that aint appropriate for class! You can’t just go around saying penis! Man! Let’s get back to learnin!
Boy Camper 1: (confused but not all offended) Beesnest, on the wall. (looks at me) Are those real beesneses?
Me: (Eyes still wide, stifling a chuckle) They were...there are no bees in them now...
Girl Behind Boy Camper 2 (catches “argument” but not content) See D, they are too bees nests, just like he said! (and the whole class misses the penis lecture, much to my relief...)

Oh Irony :)

So, today, in the dining commons, they had a slide show. A slide show of things pertinent to eating with announcements and upcoming meals of enjoyment. I sat staring somewhat awkwardly at these slides - just for a moment or two (you never know what you're missing, after all) and I see a slide (quite peculiar to watch a slide show and see a slide, I realize) of somewhat curious regard. It advertizes taking a day a week to not eat meat (I do not know why, however, there is a facebook group linked so perhaps I will investigate). It was amusing and peculiar. More peculiar, however, was my blink. The blink in which suddenly the cow which was pleading with me not to eat it was replaced by, well, a picture of a steak. Appartently the DC is hosting "shrimp and steak night" and wanted all to be aware. I almost couldn't contain myself until the immediately attached slide was that of a pig. There is a hog roast they would like to implement. And then it flashes slowly back to that poor cow. I laughed. Not just a chuckle, a full gutteral laugh showing my humored ideology and ultimate disdain for the creator of the stlide show. Dear Dining Commons, your irony amuses me!

Chucking Up the Ol' Wagon...

Alright, so...

This is awful of me. Just terrible.

But I am chuckling a little to myself right now.

My roommates are sick. They have the stomach flu. It's making its rounds which means, I (who was gone all weekend) am going to get it sometime in the next two days. But for now?

For now I laugh.

Why?

Well, because, they keep telling me how miserable it is to throw up. How awful it is to be just sitting there and then all of the sudden...running to vomit. And everything in me,

Everything...

Wants to say something sarcastic and rhetorical like "you have no idea!" or "I'll fill out the membership papers so you can join me club!".

But I don't. Because I know it sucks to be sick. And, furthermore, I know it sucks to puke.

So, part of me is laughing because they are on the end of their own grossed-out faces. Part of me laughs because it might be (if for only 48 hours) the first thing I and my roommates have in common. And part of me laughs because the puker is probably just days away from becoming violently ill. What's not to laugh at when you're chuckin' up the ol' wagon?

When you're low on sleep, everything's funny...

Just a couple things I wanted to share with the world.

First, in reading Augustine's "Preface" to his rules on biblical interpretation, a story is told of a monk who could not read and so, by listening, memorized all there was to know of scripture. As I read this at 5am this morning, I had just one thought which brought me immediately to a place of laughter: How is it that a monk who can memorize the entirety of heard scripture can not learn to read? I’m just saying. That’s what blows me away! Augustine was worried about not being able to interpret what he memorized, but I think we have bigger fish to fry!

Second, I wanted rice today. I mean REALLY wanted rice. I’m normally not hungry until like 11 o’clock ish...maybe, which means nothing sounds good until then. But I sat in class at 9:45 going – “rice. sounds. so. delicious.” I came back to my dorm at about 3pm and decided for lunch/dinner I was definitely going to make rice. I pulled out the lid to cover my simmering pot when the rice started to boil, but, upon trying to shift, the handle fell off! I found a spot for a screw but did not find the screw. I even fished through the shallow pot. The way it stuck...good chance it was glue on. It was not. As I began relishing my rice and avocado (one of my favorite combinations) I felt a hard metal object go through my jaw line. Oops! Found it! This also made me chuckle – enough that I almost choked on the darned screw.

Just for Kicks...

So,

I thought I found him. I thought I found “the one”.

I wasn’t so sure at first. He’s so involved in so many other people’s lives...so many come to him with questions expecting to him to solve their world... I just, well, I figured, someone so focused could never be the object of my affections.

The face of the matter remains, I was not always so enthralled. When I first started talking to him, I was overwhelmed! He knew so much and had so much to say that there were times I would walk away sure I was about to die. But he never promised to have all of the answers and so slowly but surely, I allowed him to give me suggestions, advice. He really got to know me...

Really well, actually. From the inside out, this guy has me pegged. Or so it feels. I say something and he tells me all of this stuff about myself! But he never acts like he has all the answers. He gives me options and choices and then we narrow the options down together. I leave with a better understanding of him and a better understanding of me.

Did I mention he is a doctor??

So, needless to say, I started visiting him often. I’ve had his address memorized from the beginning and so I would stop by – at first because I was curious...and then more and more just because there were things I wanted to know. Just being with him made me feel like there was so much more exploring to do!

I’m having a hard time, though. You see, it still all feels a little formal. And for as much as he can tell me about me...well, I don’t really know that much about him. I know a lot about what he’s passionate about...and I tell others the stuff he’s said, but... Oh! And sometimes he IS wrong. I mean not normally completely off-base...just not really that close. I can’t fault him for having some flaws but still. And I’m starting to get the impression he’s not really that interested in me. I mean, I can go to him all I want, but I don’t believe he’s ever come to talk to me.

And really, the whole relationship is driving me mad! Sometimes the ordeal leaves me paranoid, restless, nuts! Not to mention a complete and utter hypochondriac. It’s his blasted symptom checker...there’s always something wrong with me! Sometimes it is refreshing that he sees things I can’t but if it comes up...he can’t let it go and typically neither can I.

It’s just that, well, our communication is a little abnormal. I feel like it would help if we could talk on the phone or something, but, let’s be honest, I’ve searched the whole site and I have yet to find a number...

*sigh*

I suppose I would be better off letting this one go. Or simply just remaining friends. At least for now. It’s a complicated relationship but Oh WebMd, how I love thee...

I can see why he wouldn't appreciate that...

Soo...I was in the card aisle at Wal-Mart. I am always unsure of how to proceed in this aisle...like a kid in a candy store or like I have a bout of the stomach flu. In some respects, the greeting card industry has stolen society’s most creative writers. I think to myself “Perfect! I will write witty lines for Hallmark for the rest of my life!” But, in every other respect, I always surmise an inability to lower myself to an association with the stupidest lines America has to offer. Nothing like paying three dollars for a picture of a mouse holding a piece of birthday cake with something tacky inside like “Have a squeak-tastic birthday!” Or, my personal favorite, a card shaped like a nail. It had a face. You open it up and it reads “I’m ready to get hammered! How ‘bout you? Happy 21st!” Oh, our society and the greeting card industry has SO much to offer...

Aside from my eye-rolling sarcasm, I was still looking for a card. I approached the “sometimes I want to send a card when you’re not having a birthday or getting married or dying” section and was stopped by a beautiful, middle-aged, black woman tooling around on a mobile shopping cart. Between you, me, and cyber space – I think she was on a joy ride (she sort of alluded to it... “Man these things are fun!”) but none the less, she too was looking at cards and she wanted to hold a conversation.

Holding up a red and black card she started laughing. Hysterically. “You know what?!” She caught her breath. “I want to get this card for him so bad,” more laughter, “but I just don’t think he would see the humor in it.” She took a deep breath in. Smiling she looked me square in the eye and said “What do you think?”

“I’m not really sure, is it a good card?”

“Oh my! So funny! Listen it says: ‘Not only would I bail you out of jail, I would be the one sitting in the cell next to you comparing notes!’” She barely got the lines out. She was laughing so hard I thought she was going to fall off of the scooter. “It’s so true! It’s the absolute truth! I would be right there with him!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty good...” I said chuckling. A little confused by this moment I was sharing, with this women I had never met, in the Wal-Mart card aisle.

“Oh my! Woah! Well it wouldn’t be so bad except he’s actually in the slammer!”

I’m afraid I might have been staring with wide eyes.

“You’d think a kid in the slammer would appreciate a card like this but he just doesn’t know what’s funny in a place like that! Aww, well! I’ll get it for him anyway!”

And so my new friend drove off in her cart, chuckling to herself, excited about her new card for the poor kid whose friend apparently was not bailing him out or sitting beside him. I sure do hope that boy in the slammer getst the joke...