Fofuxo is big, and when you're big, you walk slowly.
That afternoon, Pigúiça wanted to run to the creek, and fast. She raced ahead, ran back, circled around him, and raced ahead again. Fofuxo came along at his own pace, thump, thump, sniffing the flowers along the path.
“Hurry up, Fofuxo!” Pigúiça said impatiently. “You're so slow! This is no fun. I'm going to play with Nina. She's fast.”
And she ran off without looking back.
Fofuxo stopped in the middle of the path. He watched her go. Then he sat down under a tree, his ears drooping low, and didn't say a word.
Pigúiça played with Nina at the creek. But it wasn't as much fun as usual. There was a funny knot in her tummy that wouldn't go away. Every time she laughed, the knot squeezed a little tighter.
“You look like you forgot something,” said Nina.
Pigúiça thought about it. And she remembered Fofuxo's droopy ears. “I said something mean,” she said. “And I think it made him sad.”
She walked back along the path, slowly. Fofuxo was still under the tree. Pigúiça came close, looked down at her paws, and said, “Fofuxo... I'm sorry. I said you were slow, and that wasn't nice. I was in a hurry, and I was being a grump.”
Fofuxo looked at her. Pigúiça took a deep breath and went on. “And I made up a song for you. Can I sing it?” He nodded.
So she sang, a little off-key: “Fofuxo is slow, but he's the best friend I know. He stops for every flower, and his hugs have magic power.”
Fofuxo's eyes filled up with tears. But he was smiling, a great big smile. “Thank you, Pigúiça. I accept your apology. And that's the most beautiful song I've ever heard.”
The knot in Pigúiça's tummy came undone right away, just like a ribbon bow.
On the way home, she walked beside him, at his pace. Thump. Thump. And she discovered that when you go slowly, you get to see the flowers closing up for the night, one by one. When they got home, Pigúiça lay down snuggled against Fofuxo, humming her song softly, softer and softer, until the song turned into a yawn. And the yawn turned into sleep.
