Every afternoon, Butters the cat suns himself on the step watching the hens cluck around the yard. He enjoys their company unless they come up on the step. At that point he meows until we let him in.
I can hear the conversation now - I am pretty sure it is Tweety's idea that if they stand at the back door they too will be let in.
"Hey she's at the door again. I'm sure it will work this time!"
"What's in there anyway?" This would be Jane Doe, the most vocal of the group. And the most suspicious of our intentions. "I don't think I want to go in."
"The waffles came from in there. The cucumbers too!" This would be Tweety again. The other three are looking back and forth between her and Jane like a tennis match. Jane is not convinced and jumps off into the bushes.
Tweety stood there, looking at the door, long after the others had left to chase worms in the wet yard.
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