Scaling the Timber Ridge

A wooden lattice leaned straight against the garden fence, and I took it as an open invitation. I scrambled up the crossbars without hesitation, digging my claws into the weathered cedar. One strong push launched me right onto the flat top rail. What a vantage point! The entire alley and the neighboring lawn stretched out in plain view beneath me. A dry, golden pinecone sat wedged in the corner post like an old trophy. I marched forward, gave it a firm nudge with my snout to claim the ridge, and surveyed my new boundary under the bright midday sky.