Monday afternoon, Effie caught a walking stick, carried it in her mouth, and put it down, ostensibly to eat it. Just then, the UPS man pulled up with my new snow boots. I was so glad to get them; I had wished I had them at six in the morning, when I took Effie out for a little stroll. It was about 40°, but it felt very cold. It was 73° in the afternoon when Effie captured the walking stick, and I was quickly becoming uncomfortably warm in the sun. My snow boots arrived; I scooped up Effie and went out the gate to meet the truck. I thanked the UPS man for helping me rescue the unfortunate walking stick, explaining that the timing had pre-empted Effie’s plan to dine on the poor, elegant creature. The driver seemed relieved to have belayed such a terrible fate.
I took Effie back into the garden and gave her a snip of catnip leaves. She snubbed the walking stick, which remained where she had dropped him. He appeared to be recovering, or at least alive. I decided Effie had partaken of enough adventure, even if no delicate insect drumsticks, and we went back inside. I wanted to try on my new snow boots. They fit perfectly.