Free Sneaky Pie for President by Rita Mae Brown

on shelves, papers also stacked neatly.
    “Some of these books are really old.” Pewter stopped to inhale. “You can smell the dust. The paper is different from current paper, you know.”
    “She’s got enough of them.” Sneaky leapt onto the desk, where one pile of papers had the human’s full attention.
    Pewter also hopped up. Outside the window, low clouds made the night even darker, as not one star could peep through.
    “It’s not healthy to work at night,” Pewter announced, then grabbed the pencil right out of her hand.
    “Hey!”
    “You will ruin your eyes.” Pewter’s green eyes looked directly into deep brown ones.
    “Come on, Pewter. I need my pencil.”
    Taking the pencil back, the human started scribbling anew.
    “You really ought to listen. Your eyes are meant for daylight. Artificial lighting isn’t good for your eyes. You should clean up and go to bed. If you leave these papers, I’ll take care of them.”
    “Pewter, you’ll push them all on the floor.” Sneaky now sat on the left side of the person.
    “Exactly. Paperwork makes her mental.” The gray cat grabbed the pencil again.
    “Cat.”
    “Flatface.” Pewter pulled harder at the pencil.
    The C.O. noted the time, 9:30 P.M. , on the old mantel clock. “It’s too late. I can’t think anymore.”
    “Go to bed.” Sneaky chimed in with Pewter.
    So the human put down the pencil, stood up, cut the lights, and left the room.
    “You just have to know how to train them.” Pewter whacked the pencil so it skidded off the desk.

A Hoot
    A night chorus of peepers, bullfrogs, and Whip-poor-wills serenaded a soft spring night. The nocturnal Chuck-will’s-widow also sang out in its throaty “chuck.”
    Sneaky Pie, out for a solitary prowl, sat at the opened door to the stable and listened to the night music. Until recently Chuck-will’s-widow were found farther south, but the weather has changed enough so that birds and some mammals not commonly seen before 2000 now traveled to Virginia. Last summer, Sneaky saw a Green Kingfisher down by the pond. The Belted Kingfishers lived there, too, their eggs safe at the back of a tunnel in the pond bank. Sneaky liked kingfishers, as she liked the raptors, probably because, like herself, they were meat eaters and therefore hunters.
    Muskrats lived in the pond, and beavers built a lodge farther down the Rockfish River. Sneaky admired how hard beavers worked, but she didn’t much like them. The muskrats, on the other hand, proved good company.
    The damp night air filled her nostrils with scent. Scent intensified at night.
    She often wondered about each species’ gifts. What would it be like to possess the power and speed of a horse, the grace of a deer, the soaring ability of the eagle a mile up? What would it be like to be a tiny mouse gathering bits of wool, paper, and cotton to make a cozy nest? Sneaky wasn’t much for nests, but she admired the skill it took to build one, especially a big one, high up in a tree. Even squirrels’ nests, sloppy by a cat’s standards, took effort.
    Sitting there thinking about how many animals—potential supporters in her campaign—lived just in Virginia, not to mention the entire fifty states, the cat felt overwhelmed by her mission.
    Maybe Tally was right. Maybe Sneaky Pie should hand off her noble quest to man’s so-called Best Friend. But then she considered how ready most dogs were to appease authority. A leader needed to know when to compromise and when to fight, both intellectually and physically. A physical fight enlivened Sneaky; it focused her. You won or lost. The mouth battles never felt finished. Even if humans recognized how much Sneaky Pie had to offer them—in wisdomand experience—she couldn’t imagine herself on a podium just going “blab blab blab.” She didn’t think those other candidates believed half of what they said, but when there were so many different types of people to woo, maybe the primary skill of a politician is being a