It was a fully grown cougar.
A mountain lion was sleeping on his mother’s porch.
He immediately called her.
“Mom, where are you?”
“In the kitchen. Why?”
“Are you inside the house?”
“Of course I am. I’m making soup.”
“Good. Listen carefully. Don’t go outside tomorrow morning.”
There was a pause.
“Why not?”
“Because I just saw something on your security camera.”
“What kind of something?”
He swallowed.
“Your cat.”
Grandma laughed.
“Oh, Golden? He’s probably hungry again.”
“Mom, that is not a cat.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What else would he be?”
“A COUGAR!”
Silence filled the telephone line.
Then Grandma said, almost offended, “Well, you don’t have to shout. He’s sleeping.”
My father pressed his fingers against his forehead.
“Mom, I’m serious. That’s a wild animal. Stay inside and don’t approach it.”
“But he’s never bothered me.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s safe!”
Grandma sighed.
“You’re always expecting the worst, Daniel.”
