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The Pet
Jul 23, 2012 11:27:01 GMT -5
Post by Don Schaeffer on Jul 23, 2012 11:27:01 GMT -5
I think I got away. She isn't following. Up, the overgrown path through the weeds, I feel a thrill of risk because of the ticks. But there is the sun and the meadow.
Then I hear her call. She has her own brand of meow. She calls me back like when I call her in the morning, "Francois! Francois!" I'm surprised that she followed me so far down the road into the unknown.
Down the path I go calling, "Francois! Francois!" and listening to her answer. As I reach the bottom of the hill where the road meets the woods, I see her pacing, looking for ways in. Come to me, come you bad cat. So far so far. I almost lose her.
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