Zip has been spending more time on the old pink Victorian chair in the barn. It’s sprinkled with hay an a bit of straw. It’s directly across from the ladder that goes up to the hayloft.
Sometimes, when I’m late bringing Zip his food, I hear his little meow and look up to see him clumsily making his way down the worn wooden planks nailed to the barn posts. It’s where the pigeons used to nest, and I wonder if mice aren’t trying to make their winter home in the old hay bales up there.
Or maybe it’s the birds who live in between the metal roofing in the pole barn that he’s hearing. I hear them too, they make a lot of noise. But there’s no way for him to get to them. Anyway, they’re sparrows, too quick for Zip.
