Really Good Packrat

           

            Harold wasn’t sure what to say. He had just gotten used to Miss Kitty’s purple hair, and now, her hair was blue with yellow stripes. “Very, um, nice,” Harold said.

            Miles, beside himself with joy, slid down from his perch on the bookcase like a fireman sliding down the pole. “Oh, Miss Kitty,” he squealed, “your teeth look fantastic.”

            “Teeth,” Harold said, turning his head to take a closer look at Miss Kitty. “Oh my,” Harold said, “You have a new smile. You look absolutely ravishing.”

            Miss Kitty laughed, which sounded like a fresh and clean babbling brook.

            “Thank-you, boys, for the best birthday present ever. And it’s not even my birthday.”

            “My dear Miss Kitty,” Miles said with a wink. “Every day should be your birthday.”

            “Every day should be your birthday,” Harold said, adding, “That’s from Miles. I don’t want him to accuse me of plagiarizing.”

            “You are both true gentlemen,” Miss Kitty said. “Harold, you are dressed for summer, except for the steel toed boots, and you’re materialized.”

            “Oh, it’s nothing,” Harold said, turning pink. “I’ve been practicing my ghostly skills. Did you bring a fiddle?”

            “Sorry, Harold, I rode Patches down today. I’ve got to earn my pay, you know, and clean this place up.”

            Miles tap danced across the floor, ran out the front door, down the porch steps, and to the back area to admire Miss Patches, quietly nibbling on the grass. Miles loved the sound of a horse munching on grass, and enjoyed the way Miss Patches used her whiskers to pinpoint the tender blades. Oh, he thought, I’m going to be a really good pack rat, so that in my next life, I can be a painted horse.