Some farmers come across a most unusual chicken thief. As it is the Great Depression, their patience is pretty thin. Will Ravo be able to get out of this one?

Featuring Pogo, who belongs to....Pogo, who was also a great inspiration! :D
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In 1935, the Great Depression was taking a heavy toll on America’s farmers. To add insult to injury for the struggling Kentucky farmers Jim and Roy, something had been breaking in to their chicken coop each night and helping itself to the meagre stocks. They had tried to increase the security of the pen, with tight locks and barbed wire, but the vermin kept breaking in. The two even took shifts at night-time sitting on the porch with a shotgun, to try and nab their pest in the act. Still, they had no success, it kept slipping in.

Near the end of a warm spring day, the two farmers walked out to their horse -powered cart, ready to collect some hay from the field. The lanky Jim sat up the front, while the rather rotund Roy took his seat at the back, causing the cart to momentarily tip up like a seesaw.

“Jeez Roy! I wager you’ve been having some…midnight snacks...would explain a lot!”

“Why, I never!” Roy exclaimed, scooching forward a bit to bring the cart back down.

“Yeah, whatever.” Jim gave his friend a suspicious look, before pulling the horse’s reins and sending them into the gold coloured field. Once there, the two got out and commenced their roles; Jim took a scythe and cut at the hay, while Roy brandished a pitchfork, ready to collect the cut crop and pile it on the cart, which the two would then put into sacks and transport back to the barn.

As Roy took a break for a moment, leaning on his pitchfork, he thought he saw something bright flash in the hay in front of him.

“Hey Jim!” he called out, pointing. Jim quickly darted his head to the spot his friend was motioning toward, and briefly caught a glimpse of a bushy red and white tail, sticking out of the hay and moving towards the barn, before it sank back under the crop.

“Roy, grab one of ‘em empty hay sacks, I think we’ve found our chicken thief.”

“Ah, good job Jim!” Roy beamed as he retrieved a sack, while in the meantime his slimmer companion crouched down, his head under the grass, and then sprang forward.

“What the…?” After a few seconds of rustling sounds, Jim emerged from the hay, with a most peculiar catch. In his grip was a red fox – no surprise there – but it was wearing what appeared to be a dark medieval monk style cloak with a hood, which the farmer was holding the animal from. The fox was wriggling around and kicking, desperate to escape. “Ever seen anything like this, Roy?” Jim asked, bemused, looking the fox up and down.

“Can’t say I have, Jim. By the looks of it he must be a costume thief too!” He once again leaned on his pitchfork, and scratched his chin. “Hmmm, methinks he’s been wearin’ it so he doesn’t get caught while raiding the chicken coop at night!”

“Ha! The greedy little bugger must’ve gotten impatient for a meal this time!” He brought his face right up to the whimpering animal, sneering. “Well, turns out you’re gonna have to wait a lot longer for that, my little friend!” The fox seemed to gulp, and darted his eyes about, looking desperately for an escape route to use if he somehow managed to kick off his cloak. But the farmers were one step ahead of him.

“Got that sack ready, Roy?”

“Eeyup!” He held it open underneath the fox. Jim then shoved him in, and tied the bag shut.

“Well, he ain’t getting away this time”, Jim said, shaking the sack. “Sorry for doubting ya, pal.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it, bud! Those tricky bastards always try to get us to second guess ourselves. Reminds me, we owe someone else an apology too.”

Jim placed the squirming sack on the cart, as the two filled the others with hay, and just before sundown they trotted back to the barn.


***


Waiting for the two farmers in the homestead was their cat, Pogo. He was fond of the pair, and on his own accord would dress up just like a farmer, taking the accessories of dolls, such as a vest and a straw hat. Jim and Roy could tell how eager he was to help out, and they always let him come with them on their errands to catch rats and mice. Recently however, the two had let their suspicions start to focus on him. Few other critters could have possessed the dexterity, intelligence, and not to mention the familiarity with the farm, to conduct several successful raids on the chicken coop. They still loved their feisty little cat, and thought he probably wasn’t responsible, but for the time being they had decided to leave Pogo in the house when they went out into the field as a precaution.

Pogo sighed, looking forlornly out the window.

“It wasn’t me! If I liked eating raw chicken I would’ve gone stray ages ago!” He slumped down from the window, his watery eyes glinting in the setting sun. “It wasn’t me.”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the cart approaching. And, something seemed different. The two appeared to be much cheerier than normal. Pogo watched curiously, his paws against the window, as the farmers pulled up outside. Roy fastened the horse’s reins, while Jim picked up one of the hay sacks, waiting next to the cart for Roy to finish. Pogo jumped up excitedly as they approached the door, and in seconds the two were showering him with affection and pats. Purring happily, the cat looked up as Jim dangled a wriggling sack in front of him.

“Haha, no little fella, it ain’t mice in here, but you’ll be able to chase as much mice on the paddocks as you want again! We caught the chicken stealin’ varmint, should’ve known it wasn’t you!” The farmer took off Pogo’s hat and gave his little head a rub, and then walked over to a wall and tied the sack firmly to a clothes hook.

“So Jim, what do ya think we should do with Mr ninja fox?”

“Hmmm. We can shoot him and collect a bounty. Or we can sell him to a fox huntin’ troupe. We can work it out tomorrow; as long as he’s dead and we get some money out of it, it works for me.”

The pair walked out, having given Pogo some cat food, and proceeded to begin the process of offloading the rest of the sacks and carrying them to the barn. Pogo was now alone, save for the ensnared fox, which he could hear whimpering from the far side of the room. He tilted his head, making an expression of pity. Yes, this was the fellow who had been stealing from them and pushing them to the brink of ruin, and yes, he had no problem chasing and helping himself to mice. But this, this wasn’t right. He’d always give the mice and rats a chance, and once caught, make it quick. Furthermore, he used the rodents to help sustain him, while his owners were going to kill this fox for monetary gain. Sure, they needed the money, but surely life was worth more. He sat still, weighing up his options.

“Sigh. Here goes!” Pogo put his hat back on, walked forward a few paces, and squatted. Then, with one great leap, he sprang up at the cupboard near to the clothes hook, his claws landing on and digging in to one of the shelves, which happened to have a few porcelain chickens on it. Trying to push himself to get to the top shelf, Pogo suddenly felt the shelf give way with a snap. He gasped – the chicken figurines were falling to the floor, seeming as if in slow motion. In the blink of an eye however, he wrapped his tail around three of them, and just managed to catch the fourth with his hind paw.

“Phew!” The cat carefully straightened the broken shelf back into position with his head, and gently placed each of the figurines back on it. Now, clutching both walls of the cupboard, he looked to his target. He had hoped to jump from the top of the cupboard to the sack, but he didn’t want to risk collapsing the shelf again. Instead, he’d have to pounce awkwardly with enough side and upward momentum to even just barely reach the bag. If he failed, he might not have enough time to try again. Pogo closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I am Pogo, best jumper in the world!”

Without another thought, Pogo sprang from the cupboard, true to his name, and in seconds found himself hanging on to something made of a coarse fabric. He opened an eye. Yipeee! He had succeeded!

“Now, how to open this thing?” Fate however took actions into its own hands. The cat’s claws were digging in to the bag, and his weight was starting to pull the fabric apart. Then, with a loud rip, a huge chunk tore off the sack, and fell with Pogo to the floor. Pogo rapidly righted himself, landing softly on all fours, only for something sizable and furry to slam onto his back a millisecond later.

“Oops! Sorry!”

Pogo grunted as he felt the pressure release itself from his back. He stood up, stretching, and turned around towards the voice. Standing there was a timid looking fox, dressed like himself in miniature human attire, in this case a dark cloak with a hood. The cat raised an eyebrow, dusting himself off.

“Uh…cool costume!” The fox exclaimed with an awkward laugh.

“Oh, thanks. Same for you!” Pogo replied amiably. “Now, care to explain?” he said, taking on a more serious tone and crossing his arms.

“Hehe, I found this thing at an elementary school play, shrunk it a little in pondwater and now it fits perfectly!”

“Not that, and you know it! We’re not doing too well at the moment, and something tells me you weren’t visiting us to provide assistance.”

The little fox lowered his head, fidgeting with his tail. “I…I’ve been eating the chickens.”

Pogo smiled, bent down and placed a paw on his shoulder. “It’s ok friend, I’m not mad at ya. But my owners, as you probably can tell, are pissed. Why not try eating something else, like mice and wild birds?”

“But chicken just tastes sooooo gooood!” the fox whimpered, burying his face in his paws.

“Hmm.” Pogo scratched his chin, in deep thought. Then, his eyes lit up. He had the most ingenious solution! He leaned close to the fox. “Ok, there’s a guy not too far from here, named Sanders I think, who’s got a real good chicken restaurant. Outside the bins are full of unfinished meals, since it’s just that filling! Sound good?” The fox’s eyes grew wide, and a huge smile spread across his face.

“Jeepers, really?!” He started drooling, his tail wagging. “In that case, you’ve got a deal, Mr…uh…?”

“Pogo!” The cat replied, holding out a paw. “Great to do business with you, um…?”

“Ravo!” The fox took the paw, and the two animals did a gentlemanly shake. “Uh…thanks for saving me by the way.”

“Aw, don’t mention it! Now, you better run along, my owners will be back here soon. But before you go…” Pogo laid a paw on his shoulder. “I’m gonna need something from you.”


***


Having stacked the last of the hay, Jim and Roy made their way back to the house in the darkness. They opened the door and switched on a light. Instantly, Roy gasped.

“Hey Jim, Pogo’s gone!” But Jim was transfixed on something else.

“God damn, the fox got away!”

“Shit, seriously?! He probably took Pogo!”

Suddenly, a loud hiss diverted their attention to outside.

“Pogo!” They yelled in unison. The two scrabbled to the door, Roy catching his foot on one of the steps, causing him to fall flat on top of his companion. Jim struggled to poke his head out from under his thick-set friend, and found himself nose to nose with a straw hat wearing cat, holding something dark in his maw.

“Pogo!!” the farmers exclaimed again, disentangling themselves and pouncing on their beloved cat.

“Oh, what’s this?” Pogo had dropped the thing in his teeth onto Roy’s lap.

“Why Roy, that looks like that cloak the fox was wearing!” Jim picked it up and examined it; it was shredded and tattered in several places. Pogo looked up at him, purring and gently nuzzling his arm. Roy made to stand, determination in his eyes, but his friend put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t bother, bud. He’ll be in China or who knows where already. And besides, I don’t think we’re gonna have to worry about him raiding us again.”

“How so?”

“Well, ol’ Pogo here both gave him the biggest fright of his life, and took his disguise!”

“Huh. Won’t be so brave and tricky now!”

“Course not! And especially since Pogo will do a great job as a guard cat!” And he gave his hero a warm pat, eliciting a happy meow from the cat. And so, the three then made their way back inside, safe in the knowledge that that fox wouldn’t steal any more of their valuable paltry, and with one of them in particular proud that he had made sure that all four of them wouldn’t be growing hungry again for quite some time.