Button and the Poor Mountain Family
SRS004
In the quiet hills of Storyland Canada, where the wind rustled through pine trees and the stars blinked like old friends, the Poor Mountain Family lived in a little log cabin. It wasn’t fancy, but it was warm, and it held laughter, love, and the smell of fresh bread.
One misty morning, Poor Mountain Brother was gathering kindling near the thicket when he heard a soft whimper. He crouched low and peered through the brambles. There, curled in a patch of moss, was a small, scruffy dog with tangled fur and eyes full of worry.
“Hello?” Poor Mountain Brother whispered.
The dog didn’t move.
He ran back to the cabin. “There’s a dog in the woods! He looks scared.”
Poor Mountain Sister grabbed a blanket. Poor Mountain Mother packed a bit of broth in a tin. Poor Mountain Father nodded solemnly. “Let’s go gently.”
They returned to the thicket and found the dog still curled in the same spot. Poor Mountain Mother knelt and placed the broth nearby. “You’re safe now,” she said softly.
The dog didn’t eat. He didn’t bark. He didn’t wag his tail.
Poor Mountain Sister wrapped the blanket around him, and they carried him home. “We’ll call him Button,” she said. “Because he’s small and round and needs mending.”
Back at the cabin, Button was given a cozy corner near the hearth. But he didn’t play. He didn’t cuddle. He just watched, quiet and unsure.
Poor Mountain Brother frowned. “Maybe he doesn’t like us.”
Poor Mountain Father shook his head. “He’s been through something hard. Trust takes time.”
So they waited.
Poor Mountain Sister read stories aloud, her voice gentle and kind. Poor Mountain Mother hummed lullabies while she sewed patches on their clothes. Poor Mountain Father carved a tiny wooden bone and placed it near Button’s blanket. Poor Mountain Brother sat nearby, tossing pinecones softly, hoping for a wag.
Days passed. Button stayed quiet.
Then one morning, as the sun painted the hills gold, Poor Mountain Brother woke to find Button curled beside him, warm and still.
He didn’t say a word. He just smiled.
That evening, the family sat around the fire, sipping warm broth and telling stories. Button lay between Poor Mountain Sister and Poor Mountain Brother, tail thumping softly.
Poor Mountain Mother smiled. “See? Patience.”
Poor Mountain Father nodded. “Some hearts take longer to open. But when they do, they shine.”
Outside, the moon rose over the hills, casting silver light on the cabin. The wind whispered through the trees, and Button let out a quiet, contented sigh.
And in the heart of Storyland Canada, the Poor Mountain Family, now one family member richer—drifted off to sleep, wrapped in warmth, kindness, and the quiet magic of waiting.
Moral of this Story:
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