As Pixie snuffles and Maurice struggles to breath I have to walk alone. But still there are three. And as I walk there are three. Me, my shadow and the puddle cat. So, over the hill and far away for She is hunting dragons again.
On the high hill top we stop, we rest and She takes out Her small black book. Scratch scratch and the paper and a cold wind blows so I sneak inside her fur for warmth.
Back home, Max was disguised as an egg. Lazy cat.