Second Seating

Back in the day, my family took a lot of train trips, some short, more longer.  We traveled down to Mexico City by train, and across the United States from California to Louisiana.  It was a great way for a kid to travel because I wasn't confined to the back seat for endless miles in the car.  When mealtime approached, a white-coated porter would traverse the length of the train, bonging on a mini-xylophone.  This was before airplanes became the favored mode, so there were many passengers and that required two seatings in the dining car.

Bent Tail popped his head up out of his recently cleaned burrow and waited there patiently the entire time I was milking Inga.  It was as if he was willing me to hurry up and sound the gong for the second seating for breakfast (the mice were already at table, busily munching fallen grain by my feet).  Just another mouth to feed.