Of All The Things To Pass Down
   
   
   The leaves of the trees rustled in the breeze and birds chirped and sang happily around him yet his attention was on the little creature on his fingers. The ladybug beetle crawled slowly over the short fur of his hand to the edge of his small finger. It paused at the valley made between his fingers and Timothy watched curiously as its little forelegs reached out to grab at the fur of his next finger. As he watched the ladybug scuttled over his hand as his grandfather repeated, "They don't realize they're even doing it. It's because they can sense you've become different than they are, in a way."
   
   The raccoon mumbled, "They just don't like me." As he watched the ladybug lifted the outer shell of its carapace and spread its wings a moment before it took to the air. He watched the little red beetle fly through the space his grandfather stood and added, "Nobody wants me around. Even The Sisters go out of their way to ignore me."
   
   The grey furred ferret standing next to Timothy sighed and looked at the group of young furs playing together several yards away. The Sisters overseeing the morning's activities stood on the far side of the wide grass covered field clustered together while they dutifully watched the young residents of the orphanage as they played. They had finished picking teams only minutes ago and again Timothy had been left as the last to be chosen. Instead of including the raccoon the other young furs had set out without even acknowledging him and started their game without a second thought. 
   
   The Sisters had moved away with their young charges without so much as a second glance to see if the small unobtrusive raccoon followed. In the weeks Timothy had been at the orphanage the ferret had seen the same thoughtlessness of the other young orphans and been helpless to do anything but try to reassure his young grandson. It rankled him even more to see the staff not only condone and accept such action but act in the same manner towards his grandson.  
   
   The late ferret sat down in the grass next to his grandson and leaned over the say, "I've never mentioned my grandmother, have I."
   
   Timothy looked down between his legs and pulled a few blades of grass from the turf before mumbling his reply, "No."
   
    "She had what she called a 'knack', it was somewhat like the one you now have." 
   
   Timothy frowned and looked over at his grandfather and after a brief pause asked, "Did she see ghosts too?"
   
   The ferret shook his head and answered, "She didn't so much see things as know something was about to happen. She couldn't see far into the future or anything such as that, but she would often predict a relative would drop by unannounced or be able to tell the sex of a baby before it was born. And she never missed. It was small things with her, not very strong, mostly just the odd bit of female intuition as she claimed. It affects those that have it differently, but she once said that every member of our family that had it had one thing in common." The grey furred ferret paused and waited for Timothy to ask the inevitable question. 
   
   The young raccoon had been full of questions and rampant curiosity before arriving at the orphanage. His mother had often confided to him that her son had such a streak of irrepressible interest so wide-ranging he should have been born feline. Sure enough after building a small pile of shorn grass clippings between his legs Timothy looked up and softy asked, "What is it?"
   
   "What's what?"
   
   "The thing they all had in common?"
   
   He now appeared to regret bringing the subject up as he seemed to sigh deeply as one readying to impart a heavy burden before answering, "After a while nearly everyone all but shuns those with the knack, the stronger it is the further people go to avoid the person affected."
   
   Timothy sat watching the game in the distance go back and forth for a time before turning to the ferret and saying, "But wasn't my father adopted?"
   
   The ferret nodded and said, "Yes, he was."  
   
   "Then why me? Why do I have to have this..." 
   
   His grandfather saw the tears start in his eyes before Timothy turned away from him to look at his pile of grass. Shaking his head he answered, "This seems to be something not of blood but born by love. I was Gerta's favorite, and as such I ended up receiving her knack just before she passed. I can't answer why something that seems a curse oftentimes passes to those we love most. But sometimes it can also be a gift. We just have make our way through whatever life and the fates throw our way."
   
    Timothy looked up at the ferret accusation flashing from his eyes. "Oh timothy, no. I never would have consciously burdened anyone with this, let alone you. That seems to be its hardest and final curse, seeing the one you love most taken by it."
   
   The raccoon looked back to the ground sobbing gently. The ferret looked down at his own lap and the useless hands laying there realizing he'd just lied. The curse of seeing his grandson needing someone to comfort him and being here beside him yet not able to provide that comfort was far worse.