Paws up on the little chair. . . whining out the kitchen window. . .
He loves to watch the squirrels and birds and deer. . . wishing to go out so they could all play together. . .
the wildlife, however, do not view him so much as a playmate, much to his dismay. . .
Oh, and there's the feral cats that roam the woods. . .
So, I peered out the window, looking for his lost playmates. . .
and not seeing them . . .
"Poor Moxie. . ." and I continued on with my morning work. . .
He continued to watch a little longer. And then I hear his nails hit the kitchen floor. . . And he trotted out to me in the entry. . . with my plum in his mouth. The one that I bought at the store last night. . . along with some pears and apples and peaches. . . I sat it and a pear on the windowsill, hoping they would ripen . . .sweeten. . . and Moxie saw it as a ball for a puppy. . .
Yeah, not quite.
He unhappily relinquished it, so that it could be thoroughly washed and returned to a higher windowsill. . .