Arlo and the Teapot Visitor

“Is there a mouse in my teapot?” Arlo whispered.

“No,” came a tiny voice. “Just me!”

Arlo leaned close to the teapot on the kitchen counter. He was a young dragon with coppery scales, a round nose, and a habit of warming things when he got curious. A little curl of smoke rose from his nostrils and circled the teapot’s handle.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Dot,” said the voice. “I’m a moth. I flew in through the kitchen window and fluttered down through the teapot’s opening. Now I can’t get back out. The neck is too narrow for me to spread my wings, and the smooth inside wall is too steep to climb.”

Arlo peered through the teapot’s narrow opening. Two tiny antennae poked up, then disappeared.

“I’ll help you,” he promised. “And when you’re out, I’ll find you the coziest spot in the cottage.”

“Does it have a roof?” Dot asked.

“It has a roof, a chimney, and one very comfortable kitchen,” said Arlo. “The best room, if you ask me.”

He set a folded dish towel beside the teapot, in case Dot needed a place to land. Then he picked up the pot by its handle and tilted it a little.

“Careful!” called Dot. “The floor inside is slippery!”

Arlo quickly set it down. The teapot rocked from side to side. Its round belly wobbled on the counter, and Dot’s voice bobbed with it.

“Whoa! Please don’t tip me out,” she said. “I’d rather climb.”

“Of course,” said Arlo. “Climbing is much better when you choose it.”

He looked around the snug mountain kitchen. There were wooden spoons in a jar, a bowl of berries, and a flower-shaped lamp near the window. Its petals were painted yellow, and it warmed the corner where Arlo liked to read.

“That lamp might make a nice place for you,” he said. “It’s warm, and there’s room to rest.”

“I can see the petals from here,” Dot replied. “They look like a sunny little nest.”

Arlo smiled. He wanted Dot to feel welcome, not rushed. But the teapot’s opening was much too small for his paws, and it wobbled whenever he moved it.

“Let’s think together,” he said. “There must be a way out that doesn’t make the teapot dance.”

Arlo crouched beside the counter. “Could you climb up the spout?” he asked.

“I tried,” Dot called. “It’s steeper than it looks, and there’s nowhere for my feet to rest.”

“What if I tip the teapot just a smidge?”

“Then it wobbles a lot,” said Dot. “I can feel it from in here.”

Arlo tested the pot with one claw. It rocked again, bumping softly against the counter. He froze.

“Sorry!” he said.

“That’s all right,” Dot replied. “We’re learning what doesn’t work.”

Arlo glanced at the wooden spoons. One was broad and flat, with a long handle. He lifted it from the jar, then paused before bringing it close.

“What if you walked onto this spoon?” he asked. “I could hold it beside the opening. You wouldn’t have to climb the slippery inside wall.”

Dot’s antennae appeared. “Can you keep it still?”

“I can try,” said Arlo. “I’ll rest my elbow on the counter, so my arm has a place to lean.”

He set his elbow down. He held the spoon level in one claw and brought its wide end beside the teapot’s opening. It was close, but not touching.

“Is that steady?” he asked.

Dot peered out. “A little more to the left, please.”

Arlo moved the spoon a tiny bit. The teapot stayed put. Dot placed one foot on the rim, then drew it back.

“It’s a long way down,” she said.

“It is,” Arlo agreed. “I’ll stay right here. You can take your time.”

Dot looked at the spoon. She looked at Arlo’s careful, still claw. Then she placed one foot on the spoon’s edge. The spoon dipped just a little.

Arlo’s elbow began to tremble. He pressed it gently against the counter and held on.

“Still steady?” Dot asked.

“Steady as a mountain,” Arlo said, though his nose was scrunched with concentration.

Dot stepped onto the broad spoon, then walked to its middle. Arlo lifted it slowly, keeping it level. Dot rode past the teapot’s spout and out into the kitchen air.

“I’m out!” she cheered.

“You did it,” said Arlo. He carried her carefully to the flower-shaped lamp and set the spoon beside its warm pool of light. Dot stepped down onto a folded napkin. Arlo laid the teapot on its side nearby, making a little windbreak around her resting place.

Dot inspected her new corner. The lamp’s yellow petals made a circle of warmth on the counter, and the folded napkin felt soft beneath her feet.

“This is a fine moth-sized room,” she said. “It even has a curved wall.”

Arlo looked at the teapot lying on its side. “It’s a very useful wall. Would you like the spout facing you or away from you?”

“Toward me, please,” Dot said. “Then I can see it. It looks like a tiny tunnel.”

Arlo nudged the teapot around by a fraction, keeping its edge well clear of the napkin. Dot walked around her snug spot, testing each corner. She found a loose bit of thread on the towel and tucked it beside the napkin as a pillow.

“Is that comfortable?” Arlo asked.

“Almost,” said Dot. “I need one more thing.”

Arlo looked around. “A crumb of bread?”

“No, thank you. A bedtime story.”

Arlo sat on a kitchen stool. “Once, there was a dragon who thought he knew how to help,” he began. “He tried tipping a teapot, but the teapot wobbled like a dancing dumpling.”

Dot giggled. “That sounds familiar.”

“Then the dragon listened to his visitor. He held a spoon as still as he could, and the visitor made the brave little walk.”

“I was very brave,” Dot said.

“You were,” Arlo agreed. “And we made a good team.”

He told her about the mountain cottage: the old wooden stairs, the kettle that sang when it boiled, and the window where snow sometimes gathered in a neat white cap. Dot listened from her napkin nest. Every so often, she asked a question, and Arlo answered in a whisper so the quiet kitchen could stay quiet.

When the story was done, Dot tucked her wings beneath herself in the lamp’s warm light. Arlo lifted the empty teapot and placed it on the shelf for the night. Then he put the wooden spoon back in its jar and turned down the kitchen lamp, leaving enough light for Dot’s little corner.

“Good night, Arlo,” Dot murmured.

“Good night, Dot,” he whispered, settling onto his stool for one last, peaceful moment beside his new friend.