“Murphy’s paws. The Big Dipper, high overhead at two in the morning, sparkled against the night sky. The tiger cat left everyone asleep in the house. Pewter’s snoring kept her awake, but she probably would have gone outside for a brief prowl, anyway. The scent of rabbits, possums, even the steady slick trails of earthworms in their ceaseless toil beckoned her. She was, after all, a nocturnal creature who had altered her habits to work with her human. Simon, the possum, shuffled out of the tack r...oom as Mrs. Murphy entered the center aisle. “Tootsie Rolls.” He triumphantly chewed on the delicacy. “You’re as bad as Mom. How can you eat that sugary junk?” Mrs. Murphy preferred—craved—meat, raw or cooked, although occasionally she would eat the tender tip of asparagus. “It’s so-o-o good.” His eyes closed in gustatory pleasure. The sounds of merriment floated out from the tack room. Mrs. Murphy’s pupils now expanded to give her a terrifying appearance. She tore into the tack room.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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