It happened on a chilly winter’s night in Australia. We were settled next a blazing, wood fire for an evening of television. Lucy, our old dog, curled up next to us.
An hour or so into the movie Lucy suddenly leaped up. She listened intently, ears cocked.
“What’s up, Luce?” I asked her.
John turned down the volume. “What was that?”
“I think someone is prowling around outside. Listen!”
Lucy stared at the curtained window.
Gingerly opening the curtains I peered out into the darkness. A burly, male kangaroo was standing there, defiantly staring back at me.
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