Old dogs, new tricks.

Nothing ever changed. Sure, the scenery did, but day in and day out from year to year everything was essentially the same in what you did. Life was boring when you grew old, especially with no one to waste the days away with. Today, however, she hoped for something different. Something—or someone, rather—out of the ordinary to at least shake the day a bit. Whether it was via her own mind games or someone who could do the same, she hardly cared, so long as entertainment was had.

His scent had it her long before the sight of him had. Playing into it, she darted around one of the corners before he had much time to get a glimpse of her. Likely he’d see nothing more than a quick flash of grey and scars, perhaps some mottled black here and there if his vision was really that good. Old or not, her sighthound blood still ran strong—speed was her forte. The extreme lightness worked to her advantage when she quickly went up a stairwell, her paws never so much as making a sound against the metal as if she were some weightless ghost simply floating up them.
Once finally up them, she laid her worn old body down at the top and allowed her leg to dangle freely over the metal. Her nose poked out from between the bars and she occasionally flicked her tail over the edge in an almost teasing manner. From the bottom, nothing more than her flickering tail, a slender leg and paw, and a bit of a long, thin muzzle would likely be visible. This, she hoped, would work to her advantage. She intended to lure him into chasing her simply for the mere fun of it. He looked far too thick and bulky to have much of a chance in actually catching her anyway.