Olé Yodel-ay!

by Torry Martin

Dear B. Log,

Today was Miss Willow’s Cinco de Mayo costume tea party. Not only was it a wonderful celebration, but Miss Willow was reunited with the love of her life, who just happened to be my family’s butler, Bradford! It’s kinda confusing, so I’ve memorized a simple, one-sentence explanation that I can tell people on my mail route:

Miss Willow and Bradford hadn’t seen each other in 49 years since they fell in love during the Cold War while living in England and working as spies under false names before being tragically separated by a series of events involving mistaken identity and international intrigue.

Pretty good, eh?

Anyway, after Miss Willow and I realized that Bradford was her long-lost love, we decided to reunite them at a Cinco de Mayo party. Miss Willow spent weeks planning, hiring a live mariachi band and picking out costumes. She would be a flamenco dancer. To keep Bradford from recognizing her, she’d wave a fan in front of her face. Bradford would wear a bandito costume with a fake mustache, a poncho and a sombrero.

My dog, Sam, and I would have the best costumes of all! I’d be a matador, and Sam would be the bull. He’d have horns strapped on his head, so we’d look formidable and fantastic! I even taught Sam how to charge the cape whenever I swooshed it and shouted, “Olé!”

We did encounter one slight problem at the party, however. When Bradford and I arrived, the other guests were all in costume too . . . as flamenco dancers and banditos. Everyone looked the same, and I lost Bradford in the crowd.

I finally found Miss Willow, who shouted over the noise, “Where’s Bradford?”

“He’s missing!” I yelled. She looked horrified for a moment, then leaped onto a table (giving no heed to proper etiquette, mind you) and . . . yodeled at the top of her lungs: “YODEL-AY-EEE-OOOO!”

The crowd fell silent. Then someone yodeled back. “YODEL-AY-EEE-TOOOO!” I was stunned to see Bradford surrendering all gentlemanly behavior, standing on a table across the yard and yodeling his equally loud reply.

(Apparently when Miss Willow and Bradford had been briefly assigned together as spies in the Central Alps, they had learned professional yodeling, a method of communication between alpine villages—or alpine spies—on opposite alpine mountains.)

Anyway, it was a beautiful moment when Bradford and Miss Willow stepped down from their tables and began a slow-motion run toward each other.

I sprang into action and cleared the yard between them by yelling, “Olé!” and swirling my matador cape. Sam barked and chased the cape, helping clear everyone away.

Bradford and Miss Willow reached each other and stood gazing into one another’s eyes. I thought they were at a loss for words after being separated for 49 years and having their prayers answered to be reunited. But they leaned their heads back and yodeled in unison, directly toward heaven: “YODEL-AY-EEE-OOOO!” And I had a distinct feeling that Someone yodeled back.

This article first appeared in the May 2011 issue of Focus on the Family Clubhouse magazine. Copyright © 2011 by Torry Martin. Used by permission. Illustration © Gary Locke.