This morning, I scouted the yard for a piece of cedar I wanted.
I heard rustling around me.
Lo and behold, four small nine-banded primitive creatures were pushing their snouts into the leafy underbrush.
They and I moved about each other with ease.
They seemed unmiffed by my presence.
I walked along with them for a couple of minutes.
Then, curiosity got the better of me.
I rubbed my gloved hands across the backs of two of them.
They scampered away.
Furry cats they’re not. Feral-like, they are.