Gingerly I Go Into the First Row

I stepped out into the garden.  I figure, it's my garden, even if it has been taken over by row upon row of carefully lined-up alien peas.  I can go out into it if I like.  Of course, if some human-faced dog waddles by, I'm all for getting the hell outta Dodge and headin' for the hills.

Or maybe this is a Jack-and-the-beanstalk kinda story, and one of them there pea-pods is gonna cannibalize all its neighbors and grow up big and strong and climb to the clouds where I'll find a honkin' huge bag o' gold and a gold-egg layin-chicken twice my size.  Wasn't there some giant lady in there too? 

So, I stepped outside, and I looked up the street.  There was nobody out there.   I looked down the street.  There was nobody out there neither.

My Orange-Cat sat in the window with an intent look, watching me step gingerly into the nearest row.  I waved, but the Orange-Cat didn't move, didn't change expression.  It seemed terribly focused on the garden patch. 

I cocked my head to one side, and noticed the White-Cat was sitting on the fence dividing my front yard from my back yard.  And there was a Black Cat with it.  And a tabby.  And a tortoise-shell. 

In fact, I noticed there were more cats.  Some on my neighbors lawn.  Others on their fence, in their windows.  Long-haired, short-haired and hairless.  One even looked kind of like Old Man Terwilliger from down the road.  But he didn't own a cat, and besides, he never came outside anymore.  Not since that foul temptress of his ex-wife divorced him.

They were all watching me step into the first row of pea-pods.

I bent down, and one of the cats chirruped. 

I glanced around. 

None of the cats had moved.

I thought it was odd--as odd as anything else that day, this audience of cats watching me silently.  Watching me bend down to touch the first row of pea-pods that had appeared overnight in my sunflower garden. 

But who was I to argue with a Higher Power?

The End

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