I strolled toward the porch with my trophy. My feet and tail were wet from the morning dew. The night hunt had been a good one. I climbed the steps and dropped the remains of the last mouse on the mat. The House Mama would be so proud
of me when she found it. From the porch I could see the hayfield where the mice played every night. Most of them were sleeping now, but when it got dark I would return for another hunt.
The leaves of the apple tree near the driveway shook from the gentle summer breeze as I walked down the sidewalk away from the house. My whiskers twitched when I saw Mocking-bird fly back and forth from...