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.

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