The black and white cats are patrolling my garden.
I can't see them from this well-lit room, but if I went out
and pointed my flashlight back toward the alley, shiny eyes would look back.

They'd stop stalking. Sit very still.
Then run and pull themselves over our back fence.

Someone down the street sets a Have-a-Heart trap every night,
baits it with Chicken of the Sea, and waits. This time, it's empty.
They're smarter now than they used to be.


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