Mary E. Lowd
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Copyright © 2008 by Mary E. Lowd
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Shreddy never had a particular taste for fish, but he'd been in a sour mood for days.
The Red-Haired Woman had won their latest skirmish over the orchids. She'd cordoned off the kitchen window with chicken wire. Shreddy rattled the wire, pulling with his claws at the edges. He shoved his face into the few centimeters between wire and wall, wrinkling his nose and squinting his eyes at the discomfort, but the wire didn't have enough give. Shreddy couldn't get his head through.
As the days passed, the orchids flourished and basked in their new protection. Without suffering chewed leaves and frequent up-rootings, they began putting forth lush purple blooms. Shreddy was infuriated. The perfect promise-shaped buds mocked him, and the delicate spots on their tentatively opening petals made him seethe inside.