A Sniff at the Wooden Slats 9th

I slipped outside through the pet flap, seeking somewhere beyond the loud kitchen. Down by the garden edge, behind dense hanging ivy, a pale stray cat strolled along the fence. It paused, sniffing the weathered wooden post just inches away. I stayed crouched behind a terracotta flowerpot, watching its tail twitch back and forth in a slow, rhythmic sway. Suddenly, unable to resist, I darted forward and nudged a dried wooden twig through the gap between boards. It rattled softly against the gravel. The cat peered down, blinked twice with unbothered curiosity, and trotted off into the bushes. I stayed nestled in the mulch, perfectly pleased.