Juniper and the Window Inspector — Every afternoon, Juniper padded along the sunroom floorboards and counted the leaves: tall pot left, tall pot right, no nibbling, no drooping, no mysterious dirt piles. Read the full story →
Every afternoon, Juniper padded along the sunroom floorboards and counted the leaves: tall pot left, tall pot right, no nibbling, no drooping, no mysterious dirt piles. He liked the warm wood under his paws and the peppery smell of the big green plants. Until one day, a shiny beetle in a seed-pod helmet marched out from under the left pot carrying a splinter like a clipboard. “Inspection!” squeaked the beetle.
Because of that, Juniper sat very straight and tried to look official, which made his collar tag tap-tap-tap against the floor. Because of THAT, the beetle accused the tag of being an unauthorized dinner gong and demanded to see the kitchen permits. Juniper, suddenly curious, followed him past the window, around the right pot, and under a curtain edge where three ants were measuring sunbeams with blades of grass.
At last Juniper sneezed from dust, the ants tumbled, the beetle lost his helmet, and everyone laughed so hard the right pot shed one perfect leaf. Juniper batted it gently back beside the stem and declared the sunroom “mostly legal.” Next time you notice his neat paws and serious stare, see if you can spot where the inspection went tap-tap-tap.