Halfway Down The Steps.

Mmmmm! Well it's really, really summer now. Lovely fresh Lilly scented mornings enlivened by my ever untrusting playmates, the birdies, bouncing and hopping across the lawn; fighting over bread crumbs while I wash myself deliciously on the patio after breakfast. Millhouse dashes off to get up to no good before the day gets too hot. I purposefully plod off to my new secret sleeping spot amongst the ever searching fronds of a bushus unknownus down by the pond at the bottom of the garden. Nobody knows I'm there curled up like a cow-pat in the buzzing leafy shade. The young foxes scrabble through the hedge at the bottom of the garden and scout about for forgotten birdie num-nums while I sleepily watch in secret silence. Just how I like it.
Millhouse comes back to the garden around mid-morning sometimes providing some unfortunately cruel circus entertainment with some poor new acquaintance. I won't describe the performance for you. Hopefully his hormones will slow him down a bit soon. Anyway, the heat of the day soon turns him into a wet lettuce!
When it gets hot, he flops down in the middle of the lawn and lolls one way then the other, hoping for some attention. "Tart!" I mutter.
Sometimes the humans come out and dig about in the dirt for a while, but in 16 years I've yet to catch them relieving themselves. They do it in that strange room where the watery stuff goes on.
In the early evening, MIllhouse has taken to sleeping on the steps leading from the patio down to the garden. There are only three, and he always sleeps on the middle one. As I pass by, I often hear him quietly singing this little song to himself:

Halfway down the steps is a step where I sit.
There isn't any other step quite like it.
I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top.
So this is the step where I always stop.

Halfway up the steps isn't up and isn't down.
It isn't in the garden, it isn't in the house.
And all sorts of funny thoughts run round my head.
It isn't really anywhere, it's somewhere else instead.

Halfway down the steps is a step where I flop.
There isn't any other step quite like it.
I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top.
So this is the step where I always stop.

Well, I tell him what a silly boy he is, but he doesn't care. He looks at me with a naughty twinkle in his playful young eyes.
Mind you, in my next life I know what I want to be.
Exactly what I am!


Herky