The trumpet rested on the floor of the dam, bell yawning into the ground where Ynez had abandoned it. It was Log Jam night at The Lodge and she was going with that Bucktooth boy. Bijou peeked out from the kitchen where she was garnishing a trout soufflé with cedar shavings. Her whiskers twitched with excitement at the lonely trumpet on the floor. Her parents at Jude’s first water polo game, her sister on a date, Bijou had waited for a moment such as this since the trumpet first arrived. Wiggling the valves, Bijou puffed her cheeks and tootled the blues.
ps- Bijou is obvi a beaver, not a cat as some like to think. I have yet to meet a cedar shaving-eating cat.
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