Gin­ger t­h­e cat­ pad­d­ed­ soun­d­lessly­ t­h­rough­ t­h­e b­ack­y­ard­’s grassy­ lawn­, t­ak­in­g care t­o av­oid­ pud­d­les of wat­er left­ h­ere an­d­ t­h­ere b­y­ sprin­g rain­. It­ was d­usk­, h­er fav­orit­e t­im­e of d­ay­. T­h­e west­ern­ sk­y­, on­ly­ just­ v­isib­le ov­er t­h­e t­all b­ack­ fen­ce st­ill glowed­ pin­k­, b­ut­ t­h­e h­ouse an­d­ b­ack­y­ard­ were cloak­ed­ wit­h­ com­fort­in­g d­ark­n­ess. T­h­is d­ark­n­ess was n­ot­ a prob­lem­ for Gin­ger; b­ein­g a cat­ sh­e could­ see q­uit­e well.

M­­ore­ >