Theobald Smells a Rat,
Or, More Precisely,
a Rat Smells Theobald
heobald, enlivened by the smell of the decay, hummed a dying season tune to himself. Soon he would be gliding silently to the bottom of the pond, where he would re-discover deep calm as his body slipped into its winter’s sleep.
Hauling himself through the wilted ferns, the mud and the reeds, he was almost at pond’s edge when he became aware of an animal behind him. Craning his neck slowly, ready to snap, he could see out of the corner of his right eye, a tail and the hind end of an animal close to his rear claw. What was it and what was it up to? Was this animal—possibly a small, ugly fox—about to attack him? Continue reading