As I read in the yard, Fleegle ambles over with something dangling from his mouth.

“What have you got there?” I ask.

“I caught a snake.”

“Looks more like an old dirty rope to me.”

He drops it on the ground in front of me. “Hmm, it was a snake a moment ago when I caught it slithering through the weeds.” He paws at it. “Do you think it’s some sort of shape shifting chameleon?”

“No, I think it’s a rope.”

“I better kill it again just to make sure.” He grabs it in his teeth and shakes his head vigorously from side to side. Bits of rope and dirt fly everywhere while the length of rope whips his sides. He stops, wags his tail and trots off.

“Where are you going?”

“Even a snake deserves a proper burial,” he says over his shoulder as he disappears into the bamboo.

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