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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