The truffle of Apollo appeared out of his niche. A thick layer of snow covered the farmyard, then beyond, the silent countryside. On his right, the large niche of his parents seemed empty. The preparations for Christmas were to occupy them, the eve being planned for the same evening.
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- Quickly, he returned his head and curled up against the cushion that occupied most of the space, warm and soft as the belly of his mother when she was still breastfeeding.
- Ah! his little niche! It was his kingdom, his universe. Apollo was a quiet puppy who loved nothing so much as putting his head on his front legs and observing the outside life through the opening. Sometimes Agatha's cat was visiting her, or Simon the hedgehog. They offered him to play cat, or leapfrog, but it would have been necessary to leave ...
- To keep them longer, he would have invited them in, but the niche was too small to accommodate friends. So they left again and Apollo watched new snowfalls erase their tracks.
- Apollo, numb with the cold and the good meal he had taken at noon, let his eyelids fall, as shutters are closed. Sometimes, in his dreams, he was the cat who managed to touch Agathe, or felt Simon's paws rest on his back to jump over him. Or he beat Simonin the rabbit in the race.
- But most of the time, in his dreams, Apollo dreamed that he would fall asleep, and dreamed that he would fall asleep, and dreamed that he would fall asleep ...
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