Descend Head First

Him and the cat were sat in the backyard, watching a squirrel climb up and down and across the branches of the five-year old elm. He couldn’t say for Harry, the cat, but he’d had the kind of day that slowly let all the air out of him, and there was something almost therapeutic about watching the damn thing scamper.

The branches were too slim to support the squirrel, bowing down as it moved further out from the trunk. He caught himself hoping it’d fall and Harry’d get a go at it, though he doubted the cat could do much.


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