Sweet Puppy was getting tired of fish. Believe it or not even Scruffles bored of eating things swimming around in their river. Cats can be finicky and Scruffles was certainly no exception. Bea and Doolie, her newfound friend, compared notes as moms are wont to do. She shared with Bea a wonderful secret.

Doolie had discovered a new source of food for everyone in her family. This gave Bea a feeling of growing excitement with such information. She was noticing the need for a brand new exercise which she would call dumpster diving.

Retrieving the other two, the enthusiastic wee bear, announced their next mission would be known as Operation Dumpster Diving. Scruffles and Sweet Puppy may have secretly rolled their canine and feline eyes.

Scruffles would be the lookout. Cats love to sit quietly staring here and there. Sweet Puppy would get too distracted straying off after finding a chipmunk's trail. Scruffles could not have even a little cat nap while on this assignment. Sweet Puppy was commissioned to be the liaison between the lookout and the enterprise.

Plans were finalized; they would set out just before dawn. Doolie, the wise bear, had shown Bea the best path to reach the rear of some grocery stores. There was a big problem though. She had not led Bea through the woods in the dark.

As we all know, things look different in the terrible blackness. It is much harder to identify markings seen in the daylight. Cautiously stepping their way along untrod territory, they heard running water. Such chaotic sound in the past had signaled Bea there was dangerous chaos about to erupt.

The troubled trio had no time to yell to warn each other. The ground beneath them seemed to give way and they found themselves tumbling and tumbling, round and round. They heard sounds of snapping, crunching, cracking and finally splashing. The last thing they not only heard but felt. Water.

Bea's fears were growing even greater than they already were. She knew she had to do her brain exercise. Who would ever have thought she'd be doing her brain exercise in the middle of a black swirling river in the dark?

She remembered she'd said the same thing when she was at the top of a hardwood tree getting as many twigs as she could as fast as she could. She had volunteered to gather the most tender bark for Timothy the wood carving, clay pot making beaver. The only problem was they were at the tippity-top of the tree.

She'd forgotten to breathe the whole time she was clawing her way up and down. That memory reminded her to breathe while swishing, swashing and swimming. She also remembered the most important exercise she had done on that escapade, besides tree climbing.

She had talked to the Maker of wee bears. So she immediately did that, adding to the list, the Maker of raccoon cats and the Maker of sweet puppies. Still unsure if they all had the same Maker, she mentioned them individually.

She did not want to lose either of them. It was her responsibility to keep them safe. All she'd wanted to do was provide them with a variety of food. Look at them now. She once again questioned how good a mom she was for them. Those sad thoughts didn't last long.

She knew she was a caring mom. Growing in confidence, she encouraged them to communicate with each other. This way, they would know where the others were. They continued to be carried endlessly, further along, to an unknown destination.

About to reassure them that everyone would be okay, except for being very waterlogged, she heard the water sing a sweet peaceful song. She didn't know why, but she had certainty, everyone would be safe.

Though she told herself to breathe, she had not taken a breath since they hit the water. There was one deep breath taken as she began plunging downward, but none since. When she did her be calm exercise, she was able to do a very important notice exercise. The river was no longer a river.

They had been tumbling and turning in the stream which fed Timothy's Pond. They were floating peacefully along toward the dam. She was most familiar with this pleasant pond. Feeling more sure of herself, that shaken wee bear directed the exhausted sopping survivors of this harrowing ordeal, to shore.

When everyone had shuddered as much of the water and terror from their quaking bodies, Bea sounded two slaps upon the water. Neither a puzzled Scruffles nor Sweet Pupppy knew of this ritual.

They were equally fascinated when they heard one resounding slap coming from over there, wherever that was. A beaver who they hoped was the Timothy, surfaced and swam their way. They had heard about him and seen his work. They often used his clay pots and carved furniture. They all began talking at once to tell Timothy their trying tale.

This was no sudden intrusion to Timothy. Fortunately, to help them hide from their enemies, beavers tend to do much of their business at night. The rest of the time they spend in their den or lodge, a dome-shaped dwelling.

Bea admires Timothy for being able to build such an architectural work of art. To keep Timothy safe at all times, Bea and he had agreed that she would sound two slaps and he would sound one beaver tail slap upon the surface of the soft rippling water.

On their wet weary way home, Bea's mind was whirring. It would be necessary to revisit, in the daylight, where they had gone wrong. It was vital while drying off, they rest, restoring their energy and courage. This adventure was not even close to being concluded.