What a good idea for using up the glut of zucchini, I said. There arent nearly enough recipes for it this time of year. It had also been a terrific acidic accompaniment to the sweet corn and predictable tang of barbecued chicken. Dessert was light: fresh peaches and mixed berries tossed with a sweet balsamic vinaigrette. We were just digging in when something nudged my bare foot. Craning to look under the table, I saw Kitty Wampus looking at me expectantly. You dont like fruit, I said to him. You like turkey sandwiches, remember? Then I felt the movement and saw something lying on the concrete next to my heel. I shrieked and jumped up, scrambling away from the table. Wampus! Bad cat. Bad cat. Of course, by now everyone was looking under the table. Dad laughed. Its just a vole. Hes not a bad cat; hes just a cat. They all do that. All cats do not drop half-dead rodents on my feet! Meghan said. It means he likes you best. Great. I shuddered. Next hell leave a rat on my pillow.
What do You think about Something Borrowed, Something Bleu?
