The Bandits

The Bandits
By Herm Sherwood-Sitts


I watched from my window, as the bandit climbed over the rain gutter and down the drain pipe. We lived on the fourth floor. Down below on the second floor, you could see Mrs. Bunn’s, yummy apple pie, cooling on the window sill.

The bandit gracefully made a little leap from the drain pipe to the open window and started enjoying the pie. Her silver hair sparkled in the moon light. Her black mask, ears and soft paws looked like velvet and her bushy ringed tail was beautiful. She hadn’t been there long, before three more little bandits followed in her footsteps.

The first one made it with ease, as well as the second one. The third (I call him Scruffy.), had a little trouble. Being the runt, he just didn’t have the confidence and paced back and forth in the rain gutter. Finally, he mustered up the courage and started to climb down the drain pipe. Scruffy was about halfway there when he lost his grip and (swoosh!) he slid like a fireman, stopping just below the window sill. Momma, while still chewing apple pie, wrapped her hind legs around the window sill. She stretched out and with her paws hanging onto the drain pipe; she gently grabbed Scruffy by the back of the neck with her teeth. I could hear her nails clawing into the mortar between the bricks, as Momma worked her way back to the window sill. She placed him next to his siblings and Scruffy enjoyed his pie.

I crawled back into bed with a smile on my face. A few minutes later, I heard scratching on the drain pipe. I sat up and watched, as two little bandits made it over the rain gutter. Then as graceful as could be, Momma climbed over the rain gutter, holding Scruffy in her mouth. She sat him down and they scurried off.

The next morning, I awoke to Mrs. Bunn cussing.

'I’ll bet she won’t cool her pies on that window sill again!' I giggled.