I was jaunting along the path to the back door, thinking happy thoughts about a drawer full of warm socks. I reached the porch and stepped up. Suddenly, out of the black night, the second toe on my left foot was struck by sharp objects, presumably attached to a wild animal. I didn’t see anything- I didn’t hear anything. But whatever it was heard me because I yelped and dove through the back door, leaving a flip-flop behind me. I examined my toe, just to be sure I didn’t imagine the whole thing and hoped to find claw marks, not teeth marks. The whole toe was dripping blood from long gashes, driven deep into the flesh by rabid animals! Just kidding. There were just a few tiny scratches.

This morning I couldn’t find my flip-flop and remembered the bizarre episode of last night. Assuming it was still outside, I hunted around but didn’t see it. Mom came and said that she saw it and that there were three cats guarding the shoe so I waited till they left for a minute and nipped it back inside.

This is obviously one of life’s many lessons so we should all take the moral from this story. I leave it to you to figure out what it is.

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