We returned from a three-day business trip expecting to swim in our new pool for the first time. Instead, our cat planted himself at the back door and refused to cross the threshold. Then Glenn spotted something floating near the deep end, froze, and quietly told me to get the security footage.
Musk had never been afraid of the backyard.
He had spent the entire summer supervising the pool construction from behind the glass, glaring at every contractor who dared operate machinery without consulting him.
Now he sat in the hallway with his tail wrapped around his paws.
Musk had never been afraid of the backyard.
“Musk,” I called.
He looked at me. Then at the patio. Then he turned around and walked upstairs.
Glenn frowned.
“That cat just warned us.”
“He also warns us when his bowl is 70 percent full.”
“This felt different, Bes,” Glenn said, worried.
“That cat just warned us.”
