Scarlett loved mornings: the gentle breeze, the chirping birds, and the soft sun on her face as she sat on Mommy's lap.
Scarlett's head turned excitedly at every rustle—a falling leaf, a fluttering butterfly, a hummingbird sipping at the feeder, like the garden was a theatre—but nothing made her heart race like the squirrels scurrying in the trees.
To Scarlett, the squirrels seemed to have superpowers when they flew from branch to branch, and she sat frozen, mesmerized.
Scarlett had a sensitive tummy and often skipped breakfast, but when the squirrels performed, she nibbled here and there like someone eating popcorn at a movie.
One bright day a squirrel jumped onto the fence and Scarlett couldn't help herself—she galloped over and barked until the squirrel shot up a tree and vanished.
Scarlett waited all morning afterward, heart hopeful and a little sad, because the squirrel didn't come back.
The next morning the squirrel returned, but Scarlett barked again and the little creature scurried away, very frightened.
For two quieter mornings the squirrel stayed away, and Scarlett began to wonder if her excited barking was part of the problem.
One day Scarlett remembered how still she had been when the squirrel had stayed, so she sat very quietly and waited.
This time Pip returned, carrying a jewel-bright pomegranate piece, and settled on the fence without flinching while Scarlett watched in awe.
Scarlett was so happy and relaxed that she ate every scrap of her breakfast without even noticing she'd finished it.
That night Scarlett fell asleep with her tail still wagging, dreaming of leafy crowns and little furry friends.
A few days later a surprising problem arrived: a tiny baby squirrel tumbled onto the lawn and couldn't climb back up the smooth trunk.
Scarlett wanted to bark and chase, but she remembered how still patience had made Pip trust her, so she took a slow, gentle step closer.
Scarlett nudged the baby squirrel with her nose in the kindest, most careful way, and the baby chirped and scrambled up toward its waiting family.
Plot twist: Pip wasn't only a playful neighbor—Pip had watched Scarlett carefully and carried a tiny leaf crown as a thank-you for her calm courage.
Scarlett learned something new that afternoon: being calm and gentle could make friends, even with creatures who seemed to fly from branch to branch.
From then on Scarlett ate her breakfast more often, sat quietly to watch the garden show, and felt brave in a new, gentle way.
That night Scarlett dreamed of leafy crowns and new friends, and though she was still a little shy of other dogs and people, she knew she could be brave in her own quiet way.
In the mornings after that, Scarlett still loved the breeze and the birdsong, but she loved something else even more: the quiet joy of a backyard friendship that had surprised her.
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