A High Perch for the Night

The fence post felt too open once darkness settled over the yard. I crept along the top rail until my paw touched the rough cedar of an old birdhouse nailed high against the corner post. The round hole was empty. I gripped the wooden rim with both paws and squeezed inside backward. The pine shavings at the bottom were dry and clean. Through the tiny circular doorway, I watched the distant patio lights flicker against the lawn. High up, wrapped in thick timber, nobody can call me down to play.