— Cormac McCarthy
Her Growl—Music to My Ears
I was home alone cat sitting while Izzie was at work. It was a wild night, the sky filled with branching lightning and the rain pelting against the windows.
Little Frizzy was scared and at first I consoled her by petting her, but then thought it might be better to distract her. I rummaged through the cat toys I just bought.
I found a cat wand with a long line and feather attached that was designed to tease her and play upon her hunting instincts.
I thought she’d be excited and jump and perform all sorts of aerobatics to capture the ‘fluttering bird’, but alas, she was totally disinterested.
I don’t know why my failure to engage her depressed me, but it did—I felt like total loser thinking I could just throw money on toys and she’d respond with enthusiasm.
I was leaning back on the couch, dispirited, trailing the cat wand listlessly across the rug, when suddenly she came alive and began chasing and pouncing and even growling.
I was stunned. I figured she’d be fascinated by a fluttering flying feather but it turned out she was a ground hunter and wanted me to sweep it under furniture so she could fish it out.
That little incident was a learning moment for me—I couldn’t understand either what Izzie saw in me, when I only saw failure, but then I realized she liked the fact I was vulnerable.
She didn’t want a super-hero but a fallible human being who loved her. And yep, that was me.
My lonely vigil turned out to be a profitable because I learned something real and true. Turns out Frizzy’s excited growl was music to my ears.
I picked up Isabel at midnight and asked her how her night went.
“It was slow—nobody out because of the rain—just a few rough customers hanging around.”
“Rough customers?” My ears pricked up at the words.
“Yeah, they didn’t say or do much—just creeped me out the way their eyes kept following me.”
I had noticed a beat-up Ram truck following us ever since we left The Cactus but didn’t want to scare Izzie.
I punched in a number on my cell.
”Who are you phoning?” She asked nervously.
“Jake Dawson. We’ve got a tail. How many were there?”
“Four of them,” she croaked.
Jake picked up. “What’s up, Jase?”
“Driving Izzie home from work but we’ve got four goons on our tail.”
“Where are you now?”
“Sawmill Road heading toward your place.”
“Keep coming. I’ll be waiting at the crossroads.”
”Is he going to phone the OPP?” she asked, nervously glancing back through the rain.
“He might, but there’s no time to wait for them to arrive.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Handle it our way.”
Up ahead we spotted Jake’s F150 Lightning pulled over to the side of the road with hazard lights flashing. We pulled in behind and stopped.
The beat-up Ram truck did the same and four goons piled out.
Jake whispered to me hoarsely, ”Take left, I’ll take right. Don’t give then time to set up.”
I nodded and veered left. Two followed me and the other two converged on Jake.
It was over in less than a minute with all four spawned out in the rain moaning or cursing their bruises.
Within seconds two OPP stealth vehicles arrived and took them into custody.
“That was a quick response, Inspector,” Jake said to the officer in command.
“Not fast enough, apparently,” he chuckled, Looking at the beat-up crew.
I went back to the truck to check on Izzie. She was shaken and distraught but tried to put on a brave face.
“If I knew those guys were going to hassle us, I would have told Jeff to phone the police.”
I hugged her and stroked her hair. “You didn’t know—it’s all right. They’re hired thugs sent by Granger to send us a message.”
“Looks like he got a message back,” she whispered, her smile trembling.
“Oh, that’s nothing compared to what he can expect if he tries to take matters into his own hands.”
“You’re not going after him, are you?”
I shook my head. “No, that was my old life. I learned not to go looking for trouble, but to be ready if it came.”
Jake came back to check on us after talking to the police.
“You must be Isabel, “he smiled, “you’re as lovely as Jase described pretty brave too.”
“Thank you,” she blushed, “it’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I can only imagine,” he teased, winking at me. “There’ll be an OPP cruiser outside your house tonight and we’ll find out who hired this crew and round them up too.”
I clapped him on the back. “I really appreciate your help, Jake.”
“You’d so the same for me. Guys, go home—sit by the fire and unwind. It’s been quite a night.”
We drove back home in silence, each of us sobered by the outburst of violence.
Wells and his Boys weren’t the kind to lie low until things blew over. They didn’t wait for things to cool off—they made them hot by striking.
So, this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.