“What are you talking about?” his wife queried when she joined him on the back deck.
“The culprit, who messed up our flower beds, pillaged our waste bins, unlatched our kitchen window and ate the last slice of pizza.”
“You must mean Smoky, our masked bandit,” she replied and shrugged her shoulders.
“I can’t believe you have given it a name,” said Zacharias
Smoky decided it was time to move on. He knew when his presence was no longer wanted or needed.