Intermission Behind the Planter

I scrambled down the wooden porch steps and followed the brick border to the far edge of the patio. Tucked behind a giant turquoise planter, I discovered a hidden shelter away from the garden path. I gathered three broad, dry maple leaves with my paws, tamping them down until they formed a soft cushion over the cool mulch. 'Bon-Bon, cue the intermission,' I whispered, tilting him gently toward the blue ceramic curve. He settled against my chest without a peep. Leaning my back against the sun-warmed pottery, I let my arms sink into the mulch and just watched the patio stones in absolute, peaceful stillness.