Driving back from Wofford the next day, I had time to stew about the threat of the cat. I was completely flummoxed by Sally’s casual attitude, particularly after the last run-in with the cat. Both my eyes and my gut told me that the cat was stalking Chaser. She was less than half his size, so Chaser was no bigger challenge for him than a squirrel. As soon as I got home, I would insist that we call the animal shelter. Working myself up, I rehearsed my argument out loud. Maybe I was being a little childish, but the cat had to go. When I hurried through the door, Chaser ran to meet me, wiggling and squirming on the floor for my attention like a fuzzy little inchworm. I couldn’t help but smile, and the tension in my back and shoulders started to fall away as I knelt down to scoop her up in a hug. Sally came into the living room and walked up to me and gave me a kiss before I could get a word out of my open mouth. I took a breath and began again, feeling much less agitated than I was in the car.
