Meet Swampy

Agatha

Hanover asked me to talk about Swampy. I told him my clumsy claws have no business pounding little keys and that he should talk about his godfather, but he gave me those pleading eyes -- you know, the ones children learn at about 4 months -- so I told him it's his own fault if I break this thing. So here goes.

If you've read From the Gator's Mouth, you know that the Swamp Rat, as I call him, can't form a complete sentence to save his life. He has a habit of hunting my gator children, and when he was a young man, had a tendency to fool with my nymphs. He grew out off that, but you'll have to wait until until "The Reunion" comes out to find out why. I'm not spoiling that secret.

What I will tell you is that from the time he was a child, I liked the Swamp Rat. Of course I didn't let on. He called me Hag and for good reason. Whenever I went to see him, I shifted from my gator form to a two-legged form that is not quite what you see here in this photo. That I had to learn...and believe me, it was not easy.

Swampy

Why not let him see me as a gator? That was his great-grandmother's idea. Amadahy. She was a good nymph, but she fell in love. Most nymphs don't, you know. But Amadahy did. And she asked me to reverse what I had done -- to make her mortal. When she conceived a child, she asked me to stay away so that the child would be normal. Two generations later, when the last of her nymph blood was gone and she was dying, she came to me and asked me to make sure the Swamp Rat got along fine. I'd say I kept my promise. But then, I always do.