“I guess the moral of this story is, if a loose tiger is loose, let him enjoy his freedom. Don't try to catch him by the tail, because that ain't what you want.”
“But Goldie is just a house cat, Gracie.”
“But Goldie doesn't know that, Amanda.”
Friends eight-year-old Gracie Trent and seven-year-old Amanda Ludlow stood shaking their heads as the ambulance pulled off from the cul-de-sac after someone made a big, big mistake.
Goldie was Gracie's huge housecat – and not just any housecat. Thomas Stepforth Sr., had realized that somehow his granddaughter had rescued her very own Siberian Forest cat, full-blooded. Like Siberian Forest females in general, Goldie had bonded most strongly with Gracie her rescuer, but was generally sweet-tempered with all the family members including the Stepforths, in to care for their grandchildren for a few weeks.
But, all that ended at the door of the Trent home. Goldie was a ferocious local predator and had the respect of all the other housecats – even some relatively big local tomcats did not bother the big golden queen with the lineage out of one of the toughest places to live on earth.
So then some hapless human, drunk, out of the right place, had seen said cat just minding her own business before coming home for the morning rest, had said, “That's a big a** cat!” and tried to catch her for his very own – and got caught. Goldie had torn him up.
“I gotta go do a proper wash,” Gracie said, “because I don't know what the blood alcohol level was in a person that dumb, and I don't want Goldie getting sick from licking all that off cleaning herself.”
“What I'm really trying to figure out is,” Amanda said, “how do you not know that the only part of a cat that is not sharp is the tail, so then if you grab that end, all the other sharp parts are free?”
“That's because the tail is the only part you can grab and have a delayed reaction – every other part, you grab it and it grabs you,” Gracie said. “But the main thing is, don't ever start drinking, because drink will have you out here in situations you really don't need to be in.”
“I see that!” Amanda said. “How long do you think it is going to be until that man gets better?”
“Well, at least as drunk as he was, the alcohol in his blood will keep germs from being as bad in his cuts,” Gracie said, “but there's no telling if he gets drunk again.”
“Yeah,” Amanda said, “because there's dumber things you can do like trying to catch a cab by getting in front of it, or talking smack to your dad, Cousin Harry, or my Papa.”
“Look, either of my grandmothers will end you, much less Dad and Pop-Pop,” Gracie said. “That's why, Amanda, that friends don't let friends drink and drive or anything else – it's dangerous out here when you don't know what you are doing!”
“Right – because you gotta keep your hands to yourself and watch your mouth at all times,” Amanda said. “Grandma says all the time and she's right: everybody doesn't love the same way, and some people don't love at all, and I guess some cats don't either.”
“Ain't it the truth, Mandie. Ain't it the truth.”