Theme # 58: Hoot


Some night.

Crookshanks found it rather hard to sleep. The cat had chosen this spot, by the fireside in the common room, because he had been pretty sure it would guarantee him a good night's sleep. The weather was cold, bitter-cold, and the flames ensured that his bed was reasonably hot.

But the fire had died down, and he was cold again. He tried to curl up again in an attempt to drive away the cold, but it was of little use. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, and Crookshanks sat up.

Time to find another spot.