This is the 61st installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
She was too short to see over the fence—but that didn’t stop her, of course. I was sipping a margarita poolside when I saw her beady little eyes under the fence. For a moment, I mistook her for a dog and thought she’d start digging.
We locked eyes for exactly three seconds, and then she retreated. I heard a crash on the other side of the fence—their cookout grill, maybe.
“Betsy dear,” I called out. “What are you doing?”
There were two false starts of the lawnmower, and then its motor jolted to life.
Getting out of my chair took longer than I’d like to admit, but when I finally did, I went up to the fence line. Holding out my margarita-free hand, I whispered a few choice words.
A toad materialized in my palm. I lowered it to the ground and nudged it toward the gap between the fence and the grass.
Four toads later, I settled back in my chair and waited for Betsy’s scream.
Miles Away 