That evening Cinderella was purring in the weeds above the bank near the gas station.  Close by Teemeyer was resting, standing on one leg. The cat  looked into the eyes of the Great Blue Heron and learned about the dogs living under the corn crib at Drawbridge’s farm in Dutton. She thought, I wonder if they are hungry, and Teemeyer understood her thoughts.

Morris, Stanley and Frank had had a wonderful day and went to bed happy. Their beds were made of dry milkweed silk and hidden in woodpecker holes half way up the spruce tree. In the moonlight, owls sang them to sleep and they could hear the voice of the chidren’s mother singing a lullaby about an old gray cat. Katie had gone back to her mother’s house down the street. She could hear the owls but not the lullaby. She thought about Cinderella and wished she had a cat.