This is Ria. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. You are going to love this story.

I just know it. Sometimes I get a feeling. You know, this story gives me that feeling.

Oh, looks like I have an email. Attention frog caster. Attention frog caster. This is a courtesy notice from the Department of Spider and Beetle Home Environment regulations.

Our Regulation Adherence Review Committee has received a formal complaint from one or more spider and or beetle residents of your studio, detailing a lack of game insects, game insects, including but not limited to flies, horse flies, dragon flies, cluster flies, gnats, and ants.

The complaint review process will take an estimated 47 weeks plus or minus 17 weeks. What? For the duration of the review period, please cease, cleaning, dusting, vacuuming, and all other activities with the potential to limit the spiders and or beetles access to game insects.

Signed, the Adherence Review Committee, Department of Spider and oh my gosh. How is this real? And I'm a pod caster, not a frog caster.

Hmm, I'm looking up there and what do you know? I've got an audience in the corner. I know you submitted that complaint and I have zero intentions to stop cleaning my studio. Game insects. Are you kidding me?

Tiny people, this is too much. I cannot even begin to address this complaint right now. I'll deal with it later. After the story, it's called The Fence. Take it away, Leoni.

Remember, there are no pictures. You have to imagine the pictures in your mind. You can have imagined the pictures however you want. Okay, here we go.

Mr. Felix is a quiet fellow. He lives at the base of an ancient hickory tree. When it rains, he goes inside. When it snows, he goes inside.

Mr. Felix has seen many things over his long life. As with anyone who has lived a bit of time, there are things he loves to remember and things he wishes to forget.

When a storm is on its way, even miles off, Mr. Felix feels a twinge in his bad knee and knows its time to leave the forest to more daring animals.

If he is slow moving, as he often is, and gets a glimpse of storm clouds gathering overhead, painful memories, darken his thoughts, and he feels an additional twinge in his heart.

But when the sun is shining and the birds are singing, Mr. Felix ambles out of his old hickory. Stretches himself on the lounge chair he built years ago, the one cushioned with sun-dried dandelion stems, and gases up at the cotton candy clouds, drifting above the forest canopy.

On those sweet days, Mr. Felix feels neither nostalgia nor disappointment. He focuses solely on the moment, the now.

Yes, Mr. Felix loves his paw-made lounge chair, and he loves his hickory, and he loves his forest. But what he loves most is to be alone.

When Mr. Felix is alone, he can simply be. When he is alone, he can be the very same rabbit he was as a child.

It is when others are around that Mr. Felix gets growly. He is no longer one with his inner rabbit child.

The noise other creatures, especially young creatures, bring greats at him like an unscratchable itch on the surface of his brain.

There bothers some tendencies intrude on his peace, like when they skipper on his stone path, tracking mud from the river that he will have to find time to scrape off.

Or when they disturb the roots of his ancient hickory with their dance parties and their frollicking.

When others are around, Mr. Felix feels himself transform into a grumpy old rabbit, a get off my lawn old rabbit.

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