Toleration

Tom, Mom, and the Young Turks have decided I can be trusted--well, at least tolerated. They stop by often, look me over, and go about their journey through The Acres. I must not be scary enough. They parade out of the trees, by the pond, pass by the cave, and then wander through the Meadow, into the Wild Area, and off to who knows where. Until tomorrow afternoon. I wonder if they want to celebrate Thanksgiving with me? Hmmmm.