Tyche
Copyright© 2020 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 89
It’s a slow ride up to the MLK. Can’t drive on the runway ... even if it is grass. I probably ought to do something about the bumps in the driveway ... road. It’s longer than the road to the River School ... but that’s public access and our little road is gated. Just the same ... bumps are part of mountain biking.
The cop ... he might have been 22 or 23 and new at the job ... asked, “You called this morning about your cat?”
“Yes ... someone swerved and killed him ... I waited but nobody came out to look. I miss him and decided I needed another cat.”
“Where did you get this one?”
“Raul?” I said it as intended. Rah-oool. Almost silent L. My cats have always had a difficult time with L.
“Yes.”
“At the Wild Animal Rescue Shelter.”
“He’s not wild.”
“According to the Shelter Manager, he jumped the fence to the Cat area.” I decided he needed to draw his own conclusions.
“And?”
“For the past 10 months he’s been playing with their injured Black Panther.”
“He stayed at the shelter voluntarily?”
“How would I know?” I questioned, “I guess you could ask him.”
I thought the cop was going to wreck his patrol car ... he ... for sure snorted coffee from his thermos cup.
“Just a suggestion,” I said.
“Tell ya what ... you ask him,” and he snickered.
“Ok.”
Another swerve.
“You gotta drive better than that.”
“I wasn’t serious.”
“I am.”
And I did. When we arrived at the gate.
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