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 &g­t;