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Walter and the Little Voice That Forgot To Be Kind

In this Gentle Night Friends story, Walter learns he doesn't have to argue with every worried or self-critical thought. With help from Baxter and the others, he discovers the quiet part of himself that can simply listen, watch, and notice.

This free PDF is provided for review and printing. Because screens can interfere with sleep, families may prefer to print the story rather than read it on a screen at bedtime.

Woodmere Estate and Rescue Farm

The Cast of Characters

Walter and the Little Voice that Forgot to Be Kind
From the notebook of Professor Pondo

Woodmere Estate and Rescue Farm was quiet.

Very quiet.

The people in the house had gone to bed long ago.

The horses were asleep in the barn.

The goats had finally stopped finding reasons to bump into things.

Even the frogs in the pond seemed to have decided that they had said enough for one night.

But Walter was awake.

He lay on his bed in the conservatory with his great head resting between his paws.

His eyes were open.

His long tail lay still beside him.

Oscar was curled into a tiny gray ball nearby.

Jimmy Joe was stretched across two cushions in a way that suggested he believed both belonged to him.

Baxter sat on the top platform of the cat tree, looking through the windows toward the dark grounds of Woodmere.

And I was nearby.

I often am.

My name is Professor Pondo.

I should explain something before I tell you what happened next.

Animals do not speak to me in human words.

Walter does not suddenly begin discussing philosophy.

Baxter does not deliver lectures.

And Jimmy Joe certainly does not say all the things I imagine him saying.

I watch them.

I watch their eyes and ears.

I watch the way they move toward one another.

Or away.

I watch tails, paws, whiskers, and sometimes very long silences.

Then I imagine the words that might belong to what I see.

That night, Walter's silence seemed to have quite a lot to say.

So I opened my notebook.

And this is what I imagined.

Earlier that morning, Oscar and Jimmy Joe had come racing out of the conservatory.

They shot across the stone patio.

Oscar went one way.

Jimmy Joe went the other.

Walter quickly stepped aside to let them pass.

His hip bumped a wooden plant stand.

The stand wobbled.

The flowerpot tipped.

And then—

CRACK.

The pot broke against the stone.

Soil spilled across the patio.

Walter froze.

His tail dropped.

Mara came outside.

She looked at the broken pot.

Then she looked at Walter.

"Oh, Walter," she said softly. "Please be more careful."

That was all.

She swept up the soil.

She touched Walter gently on the shoulder.

And soon the patio looked almost exactly as it had before.

But Walter did not.

His head lowered.

His tail tucked close beneath him.

His shoulders drew inward.

He stood very still, as though a large dog might somehow make himself smaller simply by wishing to be.

Then he walked slowly away from the patio.

By afternoon, his tail was no longer tucked.

By supper, it had returned to its usual relaxed place behind him.

He seemed almost like himself.

But now it was late.

And Walter was still awake.

His tail lay motionless beside him.

Oscar opened one green eye.

"Walter?"

Walter did not move.

Oscar opened the other eye.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

Walter gave a long sigh.

In my notebook, I gave the sigh these words:

"Because I was bad today."

Oscar sat up.

Jimmy Joe opened his eyes.

Baxter turned around on the cat tree.

"You were bad?" Oscar asked.

"I broke the flowerpot."

"You bumped the flowerpot," Baxter said.

"It broke."

"Yes."

"I should have been more careful."

"Perhaps."

Walter lifted his head.

"I should always be careful."

Baxter's ears and tail twitched.

"Always?"

"Yes."

Jimmy Joe rolled onto his stomach.

"I am not careful always."

Everyone looked at him.

Jimmy Joe considered this.

"I am not careful often."

Baxter nodded.

"That is more accurate."

Jimmy Joe seemed satisfied.

Walter was not.

His tail drew a little closer to his body.

"I am bigger than you," Walter said. "I should know better."

Oscar moved closer.

"You were getting out of our way."

"I still broke it."

"It was an accident."

"I still broke it."

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Walter put his head back between his paws.

Then he said something very quietly.

"I shouldn't have done something so stupid."

Baxter's ears shifted and his tail twitched.

Oscar stopped moving.

Even Jimmy Joe became still.

Baxter jumped down from the cat tree.

He walked over to Walter and sat beside him.

"Who said that?"

Walter looked puzzled.

"I did."

"Who said you were stupid?"

"I did."

"Did Mara say you were stupid?"

"No."

"Did Oscar?"

"No."

"Did Jimmy Joe?"

"No."

Jimmy Joe looked offended.

"I would never say that."

Baxter looked at him.

Jimmy Joe thought about this.

"I would try never to say that."

Baxter turned back to Walter.

"Did I say it?"

"No."

"Then who keeps saying it?"

Walter had no answer.

The conservatory became quiet again.

A breeze stirred the leaves outside.

Somewhere beyond the pasture, an owl called once.

Baxter crept closer until one paw rested against Walter's leg.

"Maybe there is a little voice in your head," he said.

Walter looked at him.

"A little voice?"

"The one that tells you things when something goes wrong."

Walter thought about that.

"I suppose there is."

"What does it say?"

Walter was quiet for a while.

Then the words came.

"It says I should have known better."

Baxter listened.

"It says I should have been more careful."

Baxter listened.

"It says I made trouble for everyone."

Walter's head sank a little lower.

His tail curled close against his side.

"And sometimes it says I am not as good as everyone thinks I am."

Nobody answered immediately.

Baxter pressed his paw a little more firmly against Walter's leg.

Then Oscar asked,

"Does it talk this much all the time?"

Walter thought about it.

"Sometimes."

"What does it talk about?"

"Things that already happened."

Oscar waited.

"And things that might happen."

"What kinds of things?"

"Things I might do wrong. Things that might go wrong. Things I should have done differently."

Jimmy Joe lifted his head.

"That sounds exhausting."

Walter sighed.

"It is."

Baxter was quiet for a moment.

Then he said,

"I knocked over a plant once."

Walter looked at him.

"What did you do?"

"I investigated it."

"No. I mean after you knocked it over."

Baxter thought about this.

"I investigated it some more."

Walter stared at him.

"The pot was broken?"

"Yes."

"There was dirt everywhere?"

"Yes."

"And you weren't upset?"

"I was interested."

Walter lifted his head a little higher.

"Interested?"

"I wanted to know what had happened."

Baxter settled comfortably beside him.

"I smelled the dirt. I looked at the broken pieces. I looked at the place where the pot had been."

"And then?"

"I left."

Walter looked puzzled.

"You didn't keep thinking about it?"

"Why?"

"Because you broke something."

"The pot was already broken."

Walter stared at him.

Jimmy Joe lifted his head.

"I knocked over a lamp once."

Baxter looked at him.

"Twice."

"I was investigating the first accident."

Oscar purred.

Walter's tail moved once against his bed.

Then Baxter looked back at Walter.

"You cared that the flowerpot broke."

"Of course I did."

"You didn't mean to break it."

"No."

"And you'll be careful around the plant stand next time."

"Yes."

Baxter waited.

Walter waited too.

Finally Baxter asked,

"So what is the little voice doing now?"

Walter listened.

"Talking."

"About the flowerpot?"

"Yes."

"Is the flowerpot listening?"

Walter blinked.

"No."

"Is Mara?"

"No."

"Are you?"

Walter was quiet.

"Yes."

Baxter's tail twitched.

"Then listen."

Walter looked surprised.

"I've been listening all day."

"No," Baxter said. "You've been chasing it."

"Chasing it?"

"Every time it says something, you run after it."

Walter frowned.

"I haven't run anywhere today."

"Not with your paws."

Baxter tapped Walter's leg gently.

"With your attention."

Walter became still.

Baxter looked toward the dark windows.

"A leaf moves outside. I notice it."

He waited.

"A moth lands on the glass. I notice that."

He waited again.

"Jimmy Joe falls off the cat tree."

Jimmy Joe looked up.

"I notice that too."

"Do you do anything?" Walter asked.

"Sometimes."

"And sometimes?"

"Sometimes there is nothing to do."

Baxter looked at Walter.

"Not everything we notice needs a response."

Walter thought about that.

Then Baxter said,

"Listen to the little voice."

Walter waited.

"It's telling me I should have been more careful."

Baxter nodded.

Nobody argued with it.

Nobody corrected it.

They simply waited.

Walter's ears shifted.

"Now it's telling me Mara is disappointed in me."

Baxter nodded again.

They waited.

"It says I might knock something else over tomorrow."

Jimmy Joe opened one eye.

"It certainly keeps busy."

Walter's tail moved again.

Then Walter looked at Baxter.

"Aren't you going to tell me those things aren't true?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because we're not trying to find out if the little voice is right."

Walter raised his head.

"Then why are we listening?"

Baxter was quiet for a moment.

"To notice who's listening."

Walter became very still.

The little voice said something else.

Walter heard it.

Then another thought came.

Walter heard that one too.

His tail loosened slightly beside him.

"The little voice is talking," Walter said.

"Yes."

Another thought came.

Walter listened.

"But I'm the one listening."

Baxter's paw remained gently against Walter's leg.

"Yes."

Walter was quiet.

The little voice reminded him about the flowerpot.

Walter noticed.

It told him he should have done something different.

Walter noticed that too.

Then it started worrying about tomorrow.

Walter listened.

He didn't argue with it.

He didn't correct it.

He didn't try to make it kinder.

And he didn't chase after it.

He simply noticed.

His tail slowly uncurled from beside him.

Oscar moved closer.

"Is it still talking?"

"Yes."

"Is that all right?"

Walter thought about the question.

"I think so."

Another thought came.

Walter noticed it.

His shoulders softened.

Then another.

He noticed that one too.

His head lowered gently onto his paws.

Not heavily this time.

Sleepily.

Moonlight came through the conservatory windows and stretched across the floor.

Walter looked through the open doors toward the patio and the empty place where the flowerpot had stood that morning.

The little voice reminded him about it again.

Walter noticed.

His tail remained loose beside him.

Then the little voice said something about tomorrow.

Walter noticed that too.

He didn't follow it.

After a while, Oscar whispered,

"Is it still talking?"

Walter waited.

"A little."

"What is it saying?"

Walter's eyes were becoming heavy.

"I don't remember."

Baxter settled down beside him.

Jimmy Joe yawned.

Oscar curled against Walter's side.

Another thought came.

Walter noticed it.

Then it went.

Another came.

He noticed that one too.

Some were worried thoughts.

Some were judging thoughts.

Some seemed very important.

Walter let each one have its say.

And every time, Walter was still there.

Listening.

Breathing.

Noticing.

After a while, there were longer spaces between the thoughts.

Walter noticed those too.

His breathing became slow and deep.

His tail lay loose and peacefully beside him.

The little voice had not disappeared.

It was still talking.

Walter was simply noticing.

Oscar whispered,

"Walter?"

"Mmm?"

"If the little voice starts talking again tomorrow, what will you do?"

Walter's eyes remained closed.

"Notice."

"And then?"

Walter was quiet for so long that Oscar thought he had fallen asleep.

Then Walter whispered,

"Let it talk."

Oscar thought about that.

"You won't chase it?"

Walter's tail gave one last sleepy thump.

"No."

Baxter settled like a sphinx with his paws tucked neatly in front of him and closed his eyes and dozed.

Jimmy Joe closed his eyes.

Oscar snuggled closer against Walter.

Soon there were no more words.

Only peaceful breathing.

I sat nearby for another minute before closing my notebook.

I looked at Walter.

The flowerpot was still broken.

Nothing we had imagined saying could change that.

And perhaps the little voice would start talking again in the morning.

It might remind Walter about yesterday.

It might worry about tomorrow.

It might judge something happening today.

Little voices can be very busy.

But Walter had discovered something important.

The little voice was something he could hear.

It was not all that he was.

He was also the one who noticed.

He didn't have to fight every thought.

He didn't have to answer every thought.

He didn't even have to make the thoughts go away.

He could simply notice them.

I have spent many years watching cats.

They notice a great deal.

A bird in the grass.

A moth against a window.

A sound in another room.

A flowerpot in pieces on the floor.

They investigate what interests them.

They act when something needs doing.

And quite often, they simply watch.

Perhaps cats understand something the rest of us sometimes forget.

Not everything we notice requires a response.

Sometimes a thought can come and go without being chased.

And somewhere behind all that busy thinking, we can find the quiet part of ourselves that was there all along.

Listening.

Watching.

Noticing.

Good night then.

Professor Pondo

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