Kitten sat beneath the moon, wishing and waiting.
“Oh, to belong to someone, somewhere,” he sighed.
Kitten tucked his paws under his chin.
“Tomorrow,” Kitten said, “I must go looking.”
When the sun came up, Kitten fluffed his fur, perked his ears, and wiggled his whiskers.
He put his tiny left paw in front of his right.
“Today,” he said, “I will take the low road, over the ridge and under the bridge to the Picnic Park.”
Once there, Kitten did what kittens do.
He spattered the picnickers’ salad.
He squished their berries.
He spilled their juice.
The picnickers all shouted, “Don’t do that, cat! Scat!”
So Kitten scampered back down the low road under the bridge and over the ridge.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t belong there.”
When the…
