With the butterfly gone and the cool puddle water no longer splashing her toes and fingertips, Millie turned her attention to Edith.
“Kitty!” she exclaimed, and scooched on the log until she reached its end. She climbed off it and joined Edith in the dry, green grass. “Kitty!”
Edith smiled, purred loudly, and rubbed against Millie’s side, gently nudging her farther away from the water.
Stick Cat, meanwhile, stood on that rock in the middle of the puddle. He dropped his stick in the water and watched it float on the surface. He looked across the water. Edith purred and nudged Millie.
He got ready to jump across and join them.
But he didn’t.
That span of water looked so much wider now.
The jump looked so much longer.
And Stick Cat figured out why.
When he jumped to the rock earlier, he had a running start. He had Edith’s tall stick to carry him across. And he was motivated—absolutely motivated—to get to that rock and rescue Millie.
And Stick Cat knew something else.
He was lucky to have made it.
He didn’t have any of those advantages to jump back.
He couldn’t get a running start.
He didn’t have Edith’s tall stick.
And Millie was now on dry land.
Stick Cat looked across the water again.
He couldn’t make it. He knew he couldn’t make it.
Stick Cat was stranded.