sweetheart, you come by it honestly

Wednesday around midnight I got in my car and drove home. I missed my mom and Little Rat, and watching Norman lumber around the field in his mournful, solitary way. Grahamcracker told me once that my grandfather loved the sight of cattle grazing on a hillside, that he could watch them for hours. I think of my grandfather, a difficult man, and all his characteristics that my father didn't inherit, didn't pass down to me. I drive through the city, the suburbs, and down the wavy length of our small, rural county. When I pull onto the gravel road leading up the hill to our house, a silver fox runs through hazy beams of the headlights. Norman is by the gate so I roll down my window, stop, and watch his dark shape move in the black angus night.