A Patient Sentry

I walked back inside from the street as night settled in, leaving the dark yard behind. Near the hallway threshold, the red rubber ball I retrieved yesterday had rolled against the painted wooden baseboard. A quiet moth fluttered down from the ceiling lamp, its pale wings tapping softly against the cool rubber. I lowered my belly to the wooden floorboards without making a sound. Keeping my forepaws folded flat on either side of the ball, I stayed motionless, watching its velvet wings open and close under the dim hall light.