ON THE HUNT

I loop around the house, gathering the breeze and the smell of pine.

I know I’m being followed.

There’s no sound, no footsteps to count, or breathing to detect.

In all intents and purposes, I’m solitarily trolling with my hands in my pockets.

I turn the corner and hide.

Waiting takes too long, so I look, but find I’m alone.

Mmmm, I thought for sure.

Continuing on, my steps crunch twigs and barely-breathing-again grass.

Tiny pine cones litter the ground, and deer droppings

accent in occasional clumps of black.

A big tree looms. I sweep around with ease.

I’m shocked to see my follower sitting before me, looking at me.

“I knew you were hunting me,” I say.

He’s dense and furry. Green eyes follow my progress toward him.

He lets out a meow that’s made for a much smaller cat

and flops onto his side for me to scratch his belly.

And here I thought I was in danger. Silly me.

Image Source: Pexels

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