All homes in the area came equipped with a door measuring three feet wide and seven feet high. Comprised of a lightweight chemical concoction, in these dimensions (plus roughly three inches in thickness), the front door of Cody’s person’s home had a weighty mass and a faux wooden finish, but all that was insufficient to provide a hearty, wooden knock that was the setup to so many jokes.
Not that it mattered. Of all the heightened sense cats posses, a sense of humor was not one of them. Cody was no exception.
What Cody did have was the problem that the faux wooden door installed as standard for every home in Eulekatze Farm was swung wide open, letting in morning sun, brightening the foyer and warming Cody’s face. A glass storm door was all that kept Cody from venturing out.
Eyes squinted in half euphoria, half meditation, Cody half considered forgetting about the squirrel and just continued living in the moment, but he was suddenly jarred back to reality as he felt a nudge along is right flank and heard the catch for the storm door scrape against its counterpart on the door frame.
“Oh, sorry, Cody. I didn’t see you there,” his person said.
As Cody’s eyes opened, he realized the storm door, too, was wide open. He needed only sprint out the door; he was really good at sprinting.
“Meow,” was all he could think to say.
“Aw, you want to come out? Well,” his person said, peeking beyond the porch. “Let’s see how you do. Come on!”
He’s honestly just going to let me walk out the front door? Cody pondered to himself as he raised his rear from the floor and took a couple of cautious steps forward. The coolness of the air now hit his sun-warmed fur. He breathed in deeply and continued out onto the stained concrete, eyeing the painted garden gnome suspiciously. The storm door closed behind him.
Cody looked all about before spotting the squirrel at the picnic table across the street. It looked especially eager, even for a squirrel.
His person busied himself with sundry chores or whatever it was people did in their front yards at whatever o’clock in the morning. Whatever it was the person was doing, he was obviously not interested in keeping an eye on the cat.
Meandering along as only cats can do, tail twitching every now and again, Cody felt the coolness of concrete transition to the soft, natural crinkle of the front yard’s grass. The sound of the storm door opening and slamming shut behind informed him that he was either trusted more than a cat should be or that his person had forgotten about him. Cody hoped for the latter.
Dashing across the street to the park, Cody met up with the squirrel and, in spite of the daring adventure he was already having, asked in a somewhat bored tone and side-eyed glance, “Now what?”
“Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp!” said the squirrel.
“I’m sorry,” started Cody, “but you want me to go where?”
“Chirp-chirp-chirp!” the squirrel replied.
“Yes, I’m sure it’s very pretty there, but I’m a house cat. You must have me confused with some of my larger cousins.”
“Chirp!” the squirrel all-but-shouted in the most unconfused tone it could muster.
“How far away is this place, anyway?” Cody replied, attempting to hide his growing concern with mild annoyance. Despite his longing for adventure and doing adventurous things, what the squirrel was proposing was far more than Cody felt capable of handling.
“Chirp-chirp-chirp!” said the squirrel.
Cody melodramatically shifted his gaze over his shoulder, pretending to be keeping an eye on his surroundings as every good predator did. Or so he supposed.
“Well, I have no idea how far a mile is, but it certainly does sound far. And how would we get there—walk?”
“Chirp-chirp!” cut in the squirrel, not recognizing the cynicism in Cody’s voice.
“Surely you’re joking. I mean I was.”
It was the first unenthusiastic sound the squirrel had uttered.
“OK, look, maybe sometime I can wander down to this pond place with you, but today’s not really—”
His person had spotted him from across the yard and was starting quick strides towards him.
“Great, now I’m in trouble.” Cody wasn’t sure he believed it himself; as a cat, he was able to get away with a lot, although wandering out of the yard and across the street was new territory. “Look, squirrel, I really want to help you out, but I just am not sure I’m your cat. I—I gotta go.”
The squirrel had scampered up to the safety of a tree, obscured from view of the quickly approaching person, but where it could still see Cody as he turned around and uttered a pathetically cute “meow” before being scooped into his person’s arms.
Pensively, the squirrel sat in the tree, pondering its next move. Squirrel need to improve squirrel’s approach with cat. Maybe cat would like a different present.
And the squirrel ran up the tree quickly, making for the park on the upper edge of where the still-wild sections within the town limits could be found.
Squirrel must find Doughnut Lady. She can help squirrel.