ONCE UPON A TIME, there lived a little growl named Famish. Famish was the caretaker of Tummyville, a rather insidious (some argue that the original spelling was insideeus) place whose residents never stayed for very long. To Famish, Tummyville was a vast and empty land, and the more it seemed that residents came and went, the more the space grew big and empty and difficult to maintain. Famish was always happiest when Tummyville folk were about, for it seemed that Tummyville was then full of life. And when Famish was happy, he often nestled himself quietly beside the liverlilly pond and went fast to sleep while the residents were consumed with their daily business. Yes, as long as he had company close by, Famish was quietly peaceful.
Sadly though, when the little growl Famish woke up, he was often all alone. It was then that Famish was prone to blubber and moan and bewail, and when little Famish wailed, he wailed to be heard and the sound echoed throughout the empty recesses of Tummyville. “Woe, woe, woe!” he would sob sadly… “Why won’t anyone stay?” But as always, no one was left there to answer his starving questions.
Famish was ravenous for fulfilling friendships. And even though they didn’t stay long, Famish still delighted in the typical residents of Tummyville, for they were all that he knew. He’d become quite close with the greasy Cheese family and often there were crowds of salty Fries or groups of flavoured Chips to chat with. Some of the best nights were when the spicy Pizza slices were in town. They were so peppy, and, more often than not, Famish would meet one that was also a really fun guy. But, truth be told, whenever these folk left, Famish had to admit he sometimes felt worse than before. Afterall, the conversations were never really that sustaining (if they bothered to interact with Famish at all for he was often overtired and napping) and if you asked Famish, he would tell you that he just couldn’t stomach many of the bad habits he observed among these folks. In any case, whenever the little growl felt terrible thinking of such things, he’d once again let out a piteous yowl such as would send you down a river of tears on a flotilla of rubber hankies.
Nothing ever lasted it seemed. The more people Famish met, the more he craved endless company, as he just couldn’t seem to get enough. He was simply insatiable. Tummyville seemed ever more empty and lonely.
One day, Famish was sitting alone by a gallstoney creek and lamenting his longing when a stranger arrived. Famish squinted warily at the strange looking girl whose hair was compellingly leafy and whose complexion was a strange shade of green the likes of which Famish had never seen before except among the oldest of the Cheese family, but this person was obviously not old.
“Why hello there little growl,” pipped the girl. “Where is everyone?” she asked looking around with a concerned expression.
Famish gave a little sigh. “There’s just me,” confessed the little growl, stirring his big toe in the bile brook. “There were some others here awhile ago, but everyone always leaves so quickly. I get awful lonely.” He looked at the girl with his sorrowful gaze.
Her eyes softened gently. “Awww, why that’s a sad shame,” said the girl, extending a leafy frond to pat the little growl gently. “My folk, we tend to stick around when we find a nice place… though this one does seem rather big and empty. It’s no wonder you get lonely. My name is Aruguella by the way.” Aruguella flashed him a verdant smile.
“Aruguella… What a lovely name… I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it before. It’s nice to meet you Aruguella. I’m Famish. Are there more of you?” asked Famish hopefully. He’d never met anyone this friendly and kind in Tummyville before.
“Why yes, of course! Bunches of us! Though we tend to travel in smaller groups. But if you like, I can ask my friends to come for a visit on one condition. We try to spend time with as many good, wholesome folk as we can, and we try to limit our exposure to negative people. If I had a nickel for every time one of the Potato children went astray with the Canola-gang…”
Famish was thrilled. Without a moment of hesitation, he sprang from his previously lonely perch and quickly set about putting up signs outside of Tummyville restricting access to the town. The old residents were surprised when they returned and found they were unwelcome, but there were plenty of other big and empty welcoming towns to go to.
Soon, Famish started to meet all sorts of new and colourful individuals who loved to interact with one another – Persimmons and Spinaches getting along smoothly; Tomatoes, Peppers, and Beans all wrapped up together, and Blueberries, Mangoes, and Bananas all blending beautifully. Famish did find the Whole-Grain’s to be a highly complex family, and he was always forgetting which grain was which. Nor could he remember how to properly say little Quinoa’s name. And strangely, the Sprouts never seemed to tire of showering. But, with increasing appetite, Famish found himself enjoying lasting conversations with crunchy Carrots and crisp Celery. Of his new friends, Famish became particularly fond of the unpredictable, always satisfying Zucchini’s who seemed to fashion themselves according to whatever company that they kept.
The best part of the whole experience, much to Famish’s surprise, was that though these folk traveled in much smaller numbers, they had so much energy among them that Famish never quite got peaceful enough to fall asleep for very long. Aruguella’s friends didn’t seem to be in as much of a hurry to leave either, and they took far better care of Tummyville than any of the previous residents ever had before. In fact, after awhile, Famish didn’t notice Tummyville seeming large and empty at all anymore… It became snug and cozy.
“Oh Aruguella!” gurgled Famish… “You’ve brought so many changes to Tummyville. I’m oh so repletely satisfied!” He paused to wave gleefully at one of the boisterous Broccoli children who scampered by. “How is it that I’m so much happier?”
And just as she had on the first day she’d arrived, Aruguella extended a leafy frond to pat the little growl gently. “Sometimes Famish, less is just more,” she said. She put her arm around the little growl and they walked along side-by-side. “Now come with me; there’s this girl named Stacey Cashew I’d like you to meet… I know you’ll just love her. She’s such a nut!”
AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY, HEALTHFULLY EVER AFTER…
Stacey Terry is one of our cozy coaches and you can read more about her here. You can also chat with her on our cozy coaching calls by signing up to be notified whenever we host a live support call!