– one of the fiction books written by Michael K. Hurder © [2025]
Read along as I create fiction. You might recognize at least one character. In the realm of make-believe, I’ve explored various themes and characters. This fiction is dearer to me than all the rest of my writing. I think you’ll know why – popi
FUNOTE: The video in this chapter took on a comical note. Watch closely as the girls defy physics while romping with the cougar cubs. It was too cute to cut out, so I forgave Grok for this one. 😋 Nope, AI isn’t perfect.
Begin: Doh Rey Me & the Kitties 3
Chapter 2: Foundations in the High Country
The crisp dawn light filtered through the towering Jeffrey pines, casting long shadows across the alpine meadow where the Sierra Sanctuary was taking shape. Beyond Cathedral Peak, the tundra stretched like a vast, undulating carpet of wild grasses and hardy shrubs, dotted with granite boulders that gleamed like ancient artifacts under the rising sun. This was the high country, where the air was thin and pure, carrying the scent of sage and distant snowmelt. It was a place of raw beauty and subtle perils—avalanches in winter, sudden storms in summer, and the ever-present dance between predator and prey. But for Shorty, it felt like home, a redemption forged in stone and sky.
Mr. Harlan—Jess’s father, with his impeccably tailored outdoor jacket that seemed out of place amid the rugged terrain—stood beside Shorty, surveying the site. Harlan’s face, usually set in the stern lines of a corporate negotiator, softened as he took in the view. “This spot’s perfect, Shorty. Remote enough for the animals to feel wild, but accessible for supplies. I’ve got the lease locked in with the BLM—special wildlife rehabilitation permit. Cost a pretty penny, but for Jess… hell, for all of you, it’s worth it.”
Shorty nodded, his long gray hair tied back under a weathered baseball cap, his bushy beard flecked with bits of trail dust. His casted arm hung in a sling, a reminder of his brush with the abyss, but his good hand gripped a walking stick carved from a fallen pine branch. “Appreciate it, Harlan. Ain’t never had folks like you in my corner. Perry’s magazine is chippin’ in too—Western Geographic wants exclusive rights to the story. Photos, articles, the works. They’ll fund the comms gear and some enclosures.”
They walked the perimeter as construction crews hammered away at the foundations. Animal experts from the California Department of Fish and Wildlife milled about consulting blueprints. Dr. Elena Vasquez, a petite veterinarian with sharp features and a ponytail of dark hair, approached with a clipboard. “We’ve designed the enclosures to mimic natural habitats,” she explained, her voice enthusiastic yet professional. “For the wolves: forested runs with dens and elevated lookouts. Cougars get rocky cliffs for climbing, hidden caves for privacy. We’ll start with temporary fencing—high-gauge wire to keep them safe while they acclimate—but the goal is phased releases into the wild.”
Harlan pulled out his phone, scrolling through spreadsheets. “Equipment’s en route: solar panels for power, water filtration from the nearby stream, storage sheds for feed. I’ve lined up suppliers—local ranches for venison scraps, roadkill donations from the rangers. No processed junk: these critters need real sustenance.” He glanced at Shorty. “And lodging: a main cabin for you, bunkhouses for volunteers. Jess and that friend of hers, Aiya, will have their own space during summers.”
Home sweet home
Finally, the day came to bring the pack home. A convoy of ranger vehicles ascended the trail, crates secured in the beds. Doh, Rey, and Me emerged first, their gray fur sleek, eyes alert. Doh, the emerging alpha with his commanding presence, sniffed the air, then let out a howl that echoed across the tundra. Shorty guided them into the wolf enclosure—a vast area of pines and boulders, fenced but expansive. The cougar cubs followed: Chins with his double white chin patches, bold and bounding; Itzy and Bitsy, the smaller sisters, tumbling over each other in playful chaos. They scaled the rocky structures immediately, their tawny coats blending with the granite.
All that was missing was a couple of Two-legs to make things perfect.
Volunteers
Shorty chuckled, a low rumble that echoed his Vietnam days. “The Girls’ll turn this place upside down. But they’re good kids. Heart in the right spot.” He told Harlan on a special day for the Sanctuary. As if on cue, a truck rumbled up the dirt access road, kicking up dust. Out hopped Jess, her wavy blonde hair catching the light, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Beside her was Aiya, her long dark waves tousled from the ride, freckles standing out on her sun-kissed face, brown eyes flashing with that fiery determination that had helped her escape the traffickers.
“Dad! Shorty!” Jess called, waving. She wore practical hiking boots and a fleece jacket, her silver wolf-paw necklace glinting. Aiya, in jeans and a hoodie, carried a backpack stuffed with notebooks. “We finished the online classes last night. Animal husbandry—check! I aced the quiz on wolf pack dynamics.”
Aiya grinned, punching the air. “Yeah, and I nailed the big cat section. Though convincing my folks was tougher than any test.” She recounted the family meeting: her parents, traditional and protective, had balked at the idea of their daughter spending summers in the “dangerous” wilds. “Mama said, ‘Mija, that forest almost took you once.’ But then we brought them to meet Shorty and Slammer at the hospital. Slammer rolled over for belly rubs, and Shorty told stories about Nam that had Papa laughing. They saw it’s not just adventure—it’s healing. Now they’re packing care packages for the animals.”
Dr. Vasquez gathered them for a briefing. “You three need certifications to handle the animals legally. Shorty, your experience counts, but regs are regs.” They spent the afternoon in a makeshift classroom tent, learning about nutrition, behavior monitoring, and emergency first aid for wildlife. Shorty grumbled through it, his gravelly voice muttering, “I been dodgin’ cougars longer than you’ve been vetting ’em,” but he absorbed it all, his photographer’s eye noting details like how to spot dehydration in a cub’s eyes.
By evening, as the sun dipped behind the peaks, painting the sky in strokes of pink and gold, the group sat around a portable fire pit. Slammer lounged at Shorty’s feet, his black-and-tan coat groomed and shiny, amber eyes watchful. The wolves and cougar cubs recently arrived from the ranger station. Plans were set to start controlled-releasing them soon. “This refuge,” Harlan said, poking the fire, “it’s more than land. It’s a legacy. Jess, you and Aiya will learn responsibility here—school comes first, but summers are yours.”
Jess leaned forward, her face illuminated by the flames. “I can’t wait to see Doh and the others. Think they’ll remember us?” Aiya nodded vigorously. “Of course! We’re pack now.”
The girls couldn’t get to the enclosures fast enough.
The next weeks blurred into a frenzy of setup. Harlan coordinated deliveries: crates of medical supplies, tracking collars with GPS for monitoring releases, even a small greenhouse for growing supplemental herbs. Experts installed camera traps for Shorty’s photography, linking to satellite uplinks so Western Geographic could receive real-time feeds. Shorty, arm mending, hiked the boundaries with Slammer, marking spots for future expansions. “Gotta watch for bears,” he warned the crew. “This high up, they’re curious—and hungry.”
Summer officially kicked off with the whole crew reunited. Jess and Aiya had arrived for their first extended stay; school bags swapped for duffels of clothes and animal care gear. The cabin buzzed with energy—Shorty in the kitchen brewing strong coffee, Slammer patrolling the perimeter, the animals settling in with a mix of wariness and excitement. “Alright, you two,” Shorty said, handing out chore lists. “Feedin’ time at dawn, cleanin’ dens mid-mornin’, trackin’ exercises afternoon. And no roughhousin’ with the cats—they’re trouble enough.”
The wolves proved more independent than ever. Doh led patrols along the fence line, his muscular frame padding silently, while Rey and Me followed, their silver and golden accents catching the sun. They were affectionate, nuzzling the humans through the wire, but their wild instincts shone through. “They wanna hunt,” Shorty observed one morning as the trio chased shadows. “But they ain’t ready for big game.” True to form, their attempts yielded only small prey—raccoons, squirrels. Rangers supplemented with roadkill deer, dropping off haunches that the wolves gnawed eagerly, bones cracking under powerful jaws.
The cougars, however, were a parcel of trouble from day one. Chins pounced on anything that moved, once knocking over a water trough and flooding the compound. Itzy and Bitsy ambushed each other—and occasionally the humans—from behind bushes, their playful swats leaving harmless scratches. “Damn kids gonna give me a heart attack,” Shorty grumbled after Bitsy leaped onto his back during a feeding. Jess laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. “They’re just playing, Shorty! Like puppies.” Aiya, ever bold, joined in, wrestling gently with the cubs under Dr. Vasquez’s supervision.
As days stretched into weeks, nature wove her subtle magic. The wolves ventured farther during supervised outings, learning to stalk hares Shorty released as training. The cougars, hitting their one-year mark, grew sleek and muscular, disappearing for days on exploratory jaunts. “They’re huntin’ on their own,” Shorty noted approvingly. “Rabbits, birds—prolific little devils.” He loosed a few more hares in their enclosure, watching as the cats’ instincts kicked in, pouncing with lethal grace.
The girls were integral to it all, driving Shorty delightfully crazy. Jess organized “zoom” patrols—Shorty’s term for the compound, where animals zipped about like furry missiles. She’d chase after escaped cubs, her wavy hair flying, while Aiya documented everything in a journal, her freckles dusted with dirt. “Look out!” Aiya yelled one afternoon as Rey bowled Shorty over in an affectionate tackle. He sputtered, rising with a grin. “You girls are worse than the beasts!”
But the real adventures came with new orphans. Word spread through ranger networks: the sanctuary was open for business. First was a lone bear cub, found wandering near Tioga Pass after its mother was hit by a car. The girls spotted it during a hike— a fluffy black ball with curious brown eyes, mewling pitifully. “We have to help!” Jess insisted, blue eyes wide. They lured it with berries, radioing for help.
Dr. Vasquez arrived, tranquilizing the cub for transport. “Name’s Bruno,” Aiya declared, her fiery spirit shining as she helped build a temporary den. Bruno’s story tugged at hearts: orphaned young, he’d survived on scraps until starvation loomed. At the sanctuary, the girls bottle-fed him, watching him grow stronger, though his playful swipes reminded them of the wild dangers—bears could turn unpredictable.
Next came a pair of fox kits, red fur vibrant against the green tundra, rescued from a flooded den after a flash storm. Shorty found them while photographing wildflowers, their tiny forms huddled and soaked. “Poor mites,” he muttered, scooping them up. Jess and Aiya took charge, drying them with towels and preparing a milk formula. “We’ll call them Flick and Flame,” Jess said, her gentle hands steady. The kits’ tale was one of nature’s fury: the storm had swept away their family, leaving them adrift. Under the girls’ care, they flourished, zooming around the compound and earning Shorty’s affectionate grumbles.
Then, a dramatic find: an injured golden eagle, wing broken from a territorial skirmish. Aiya discovered it during a solo trek, its majestic feathers ruffled, piercing yellow eyes defiant. “Shorty! It’s huge!” she called, her brown eyes alight with awe. They fashioned a splint, consulting experts via satellite. The eagle’s story spoke of aerial battles high above the peaks, a reminder of the Sierras’ unforgiving skies. Jess helped with rehab exercises, releasing mealworms for hunting practice. “She’s a fighter,” Aiya said, as the bird eventually took flight, circling the sanctuary in farewell.
Through it all, the pack expanded, bonds deepening. Doh assumed alpha fully, leading hunts that now felled small deer with ranger approval. The cougars roamed wider, returning lean and satisfied. Slammer mediated, his presence a steady anchor. Harlan visited weekends, beaming at Jess’s growth. “This place is thriving,” he said, funding expansions.
Yet challenges loomed— a sudden hailstorm tested the enclosures, and rumors of poachers in the valleys kept them vigilant. Shorty taught the girls tracking and safety, his voice grave. “Wilds ain’t all fun. Respect ’em, or they’ll bite.”
As summer waned, the crew gathered for a sunset picnic. Animals lounged nearby, the tundra alive with their energy. “We’ve built somethin’ special,” Shorty said, his bearded face content. Jess and Aiya exchanged smiles, knowing more adventures awaited.
But whispers of a lost litter of lynx cubs reached them, hinting at trials ahead. The sanctuary’s story was just unfolding.
(to be continued: Chapter#3 – Whispers of the Wild)
From Popi’s Tales & The Book of Wonders – Discover Shorty’s Sierra Menagerie
To start from the beginning? Go here: DohReyMe&theKitties3 [Chapter1]
Bonus Fiction Feature:
If you read any of the fiction I create here to the end, you will be able to download a free copy when It’s complete. If I get a referral from you, I’ll throw in the fiction – Burtt.
Related Links:
More from Popi’s Collection of Facts & Fiction
- Burtt the Blade – fiction
- Doh – Rey – Me – fiction – book – written here
- Mystery of Willow Woods – fiction – short Story – written here
- The Last Signal – part one – fiction – book – written here
- Rift Guardians – chapter#1 – fiction – book – written here
- Shorty’s Path – non-fiction auto biography book
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