Don't open that - There's a frog in there (OTA)
The kitchen echoed. The hall was long and huge, and had many things up and down it she could use to hide under when someone came down the hall. The beds where even bigger. She could hide in the sheets and be a little bundle of nothing, or underneath them where no one could find her.
She had found a new enjoyment of placing whatever little critter she found in the backyard into a jar, a box, a pillow, between the couch cushions and other places here and there. A little unwanted present for anyone who happen to stumble upon them. She also found out that she fit in the vents - oh, the joy that came as she crawled around and found little bugs here and there and placed them in the drawers upstairs. Crickets, roaches, spiders, dust bunnies. There was now a rather large one sitting on the coffee table in front of the TV. She had also hidden the remote - where? She even forgot. She didn't watch TV, so it didn't matter to her.
She had tracked mud up the stairs, on the carpet in a few bedrooms. On bed sheets, back outside, down the steps, through the kitchen. Though for now, the little hand and foot prints that were surrounding anywhere she went had stopped when she actually decided to grab a snack and sit on the couch with a frog in her lap and eat an apple.
If you listened carefully you could hear content little purrs, followed by tiny little bites from an apple that barely fit in her clawed hands.
She had found a new enjoyment of placing whatever little critter she found in the backyard into a jar, a box, a pillow, between the couch cushions and other places here and there. A little unwanted present for anyone who happen to stumble upon them. She also found out that she fit in the vents - oh, the joy that came as she crawled around and found little bugs here and there and placed them in the drawers upstairs. Crickets, roaches, spiders, dust bunnies. There was now a rather large one sitting on the coffee table in front of the TV. She had also hidden the remote - where? She even forgot. She didn't watch TV, so it didn't matter to her.
She had tracked mud up the stairs, on the carpet in a few bedrooms. On bed sheets, back outside, down the steps, through the kitchen. Though for now, the little hand and foot prints that were surrounding anywhere she went had stopped when she actually decided to grab a snack and sit on the couch with a frog in her lap and eat an apple.
If you listened carefully you could hear content little purrs, followed by tiny little bites from an apple that barely fit in her clawed hands.