The midday sun burned, wilting the grass and heating the pavement, to the chagrin of animals hoping to get a break from being indoors.
Fat Hobbit didn’t mind the heat. Though she was a thick-furred cat, she enjoyed sitting on the porch, rolling on her back across the coarse concrete. After scratching the itches on her legs, she hopped to the human’s furniture, the one with the soft cushion. Her eyelids drifted shut to the sweet lullaby of the birds.
Her eyelids drifted shut to the sweet lullaby of the birds.
The jingle-jangle of a bell had her popping from the cushion. Frodo, her brother, bounced around the corner of the house, and from the sound of things, in full hunting mode.
Lazily, she placed her paws neatly in front of her rounded tummy. Her head turned to follow Frodo across the yard to just under the birdbath.
A humid breeze transported the musty odor of the animal, allowing her to remain comfortable in her seat and still smell what was going down. A squirrel was near. She shook her head at Frodo, who had only just located the varmint. The slits in her eyes grew thin as she peered into the yard where the scorching light ruled.
The squirrel shuffled a little farther down the sapling, and Frodo crawled closer, his jaw twitching as if to hypnotize the bushy-tailed critter.
Fat Hobbit jumped from the chair and parked herself on the edge of the covered patio, eyes locked on the intense scene. Would he finally catch one? Anticipation filled her mind, and she ignored the sound of her human’s voice offering her a cool drink of water.
Her ringed-tail slapped against the pavement as the brother moved into pouncing range of the jittery squirrel. Offering her support, she chattered to the animal clinging to the bark of the tree.
In a single motion, Frodo rose from the ground and shot to the trunk. Claws sprouted from his soft paws. His teeth glistened in the sunlight.
Fat Hobbit bounced to her paws. Being part of the fun was fine so long as it wasn’t too involved. As the squirrel scurried through the mulched garden, it jumped to the yard’s Dumb-Dumb statue, clinging for dear life.
Frodo’s tail whipped as he jumped for the critter, but the squirrel bounced off his back and ran up the tree, crouching on the first branch, crying a warning to other squirrels.
An audible sigh proceeded Fat Hobbit’s walk back to the comfy chair. Relaxing once again into the soft cushion, she wondered when her brother might catch his prey.
Frodo marched defeated to the porch. MIK! MIK! He grumbled to his sister.
The disregard in her expression didn’t faze him. It was her usual expression, after all. Fat Hobbit curled into a ball, and Frodo climbed to the seat, spending a few minutes cleaning her ears.
Together, they dozed off, unburdened by the summer heat.