Tansy Waits for Gold — The first gold stripe slid across the tiled sunroom, and Tansy tucked her cold paws beneath her chest. Read the full story →
The first gold stripe slid across the tiled sunroom, and Tansy tucked her cold paws beneath her chest. She wanted that stripe before it reached the tall plant pot, where the floor smelled like damp leaves and clay. Her cushion sat in the shady corner, soft as bread, but the warm line was moving away. Tansy stepped out, paw by paw, over cool tile that made her toes prickle.
Beside the pot, a tiny spider was hauling a silver thread from one leaf tip to another. Tansy lifted one paw, ready to pass, but the thread trembled in the bright air. “Please wait,” the spider whispered, as softly as dust. So Tansy waited. The sun crept up her whiskers. The tile warmed. Her paws stopped aching. At last the spider tied the thread, and a bead of water caught the light like a little lantern.
Tansy had come for one stripe of warmth, but she carried back the quiet shine of waiting. Next time you see her sitting straight beside the leafy pot, check her paws—do they look like they are saving a bit of gold?
