Teacup dashed to the fountain.

“Teacup, wait!” Petit said. “I didn’t mean that hoop. Just one like it…but closer to the ground!”

Petit had a point. The hoop was high—really, really high. But Teacup needed a really, really exciting new trick.

“The hoop is perfect. Plus, I don’t have time to look for another,” Teacup said. “Could you give me a boost, please?”

Petit sighed. She folded her front legs. Teacup leaped onto her back. Petit stood up.

Teacup jumped onto the marble fountain.

She balanced on the edge. Then she leaped onto the top of the wall.

“I wish I were a cat!” she called to Petit as she walked along the wall to the trellis. “They’re good at climbing.”

“Or a monkey,” Petit said under her breath.

Teacup leaped onto the trellis. She carefully scrambled across the wooden slats. The hoop hung off the middle part. She scooted forward, but she could barely reach the hoop with her paw. She had stretched an inch more to poke at it, when—

SQUAWK!

A bird flew out of a nest in the wisteria! Its wings flapped in Teacup’s face.

Teacup wobbled a little to the left.

She wavered a little to the right.

And then she lost her balance!

She toppled, nose over tail, down past the trellis and the wisteria.

She landed—WHOOSH!—in a soft mound of ivy.

KER-THOOP! The hoop clattered to the walkway next to her.

Petit rushed over.

Teacup shook ivy leaves from her fur. “I’m okay!” she said. She stretched her paws to be sure.

“What a spectacular trick!” Petit said. “Maybe you can add it to the show.”

“Or…maybe not,” Teacup said. She couldn’t imagine taking that fall over and over!

The hoop was worth it, though. While Petit held the hoop up, Teacup jumped through it forward. She jumped through it backward. She jumped back and forth through the hoop as Petit let it roll.

Teacup practiced all afternoon. She practiced while the sun set. She practiced while the moon rose and the stars came out.

“Teacup,” Petit said with a yawn, “isn’t it time for bed?”

“You go,” Teacup said. “Simone is coming tomorrow! I need to run through the show again. I was a second late on that last leap.”

Petit shook her head. “You know, sometimes perfect is kind of boring,” she said. She waved a hoof at Teacup and headed for the stables.

Teacup stopped. Was Petit right? Was she trying to be too perfect? Would anyone notice if she didn’t jump through the exact center of the hoop, or if her leap was a little off?

Probably not.

But Teacup kept practicing anyway.