He ended the call only after she promised to remain indoors until he arrived.
He drove to her house before sunrise the following morning and contacted local wildlife authorities on the way.
When he arrived, he found the cougar sitting beneath an oak tree at the edge of the garden.
Its golden-brown coat blended beautifully with the dry grass. Its muscular body remained perfectly still, except for the slow movement of its tail.
My father stayed inside his car.
The animal watched him.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then the cougar turned away and disappeared between the trees.
My father rushed into the house.
Grandma was standing at the kitchen counter, spreading butter on a piece of toast.
“Where is he?” she asked.
My father stared at her.
“You’re asking me where the cougar is?”
“His name is Golden.”
“Mom!”
She looked up, finally recognizing how frightened he was.
For the first time, she stopped smiling.
