“No dogs or cats allowed.”
The sign on the door to the library was pretty straightforward. Peter read it once quietly, then once more out loud, as if that would make a difference.
“I don’t think they want us to come in,” Paula said, next to him. Peter just shrugged.
“They’re not going to get a choice,” he said. He reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long, thin flute. He then placed it against his lips and blew a few light notes.
At first there was no reaction, so he played a few mores notes. Then there was a rustling in the bushes nearby, and out came several small kittens.
“Oh, hello,” Peter said. “Where are your cousins?” He played some more on the flute, a short little ditty that sounded less like a melody and more like a child playing random notes on a whim.
More rustling in the bushes, both nearby and along the long drive leading up the library. More cats appeared, all heading straight for Peter.
Another little tune, this time on the lower registers of the flute, and soon there were a large group of dogs to go alongside the herd of cats.
“I think it’s time to go in,” Peter said. And with that he opened the door, played another tune that sounded a little like a march, and led the procession of cats and dogs into the library.
Paula just stood to one side, watching all this, and smirking. “Oh, they’re not going to like this,” she said, and followed the throng into the library.