Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving morning and I need to bake an apple pie and some dinner rolls before leaving at 12:30 pm for the family gathering.

I walk the dogs before starting to bake.  Mistake.

On the walk Nailah attacks a cat.  

We pass the house where two cats live, Callie and Aja Baba.  Sometimes one of them is sitting on a three-foot wall, and I let Nailah walk closer and sniff.

Today when I do that, Nailah suddenly lunges.

She clamps her teeth on the little black cat and starts shaking her.

"No, no, Nailah!" I scream, yanking on her leash.  

Nailah releases the cat, and I see she has a cone around her neck.

Callie can't escape as usual through the wrought iron fence because of the cone.  

Nailah grabs her again but immediately releases her as I scream "No, no!" and try to pull eighty pounds of dog toward me.   

Then Callie dashes off through the bushes into a back yard, and I regain control of my monster.

I knock on the door but the owner is not home.  No cars in the driveway.  Thanksgiving.

I drag Nailah and Stormy home, yelling at them and at myself.

I return and leave a note for Callie's owner with my cell phone number--not the land line.  I don't want anyone but me to answer this call.

I knock on the door of a next-door neighbor and tell her what has happened.  She calls Callie's owner.

I return to the house.  Thanksgiving has been ruined.  Nailah has probably killed a neighbor's cat.  

I fumble around the kitchen as the clock ticks toward T-time, but there's no point to making pies or dinner rolls.

~

At 9:30 am John gets up and walks out from the bedroom.  I've been debating how and when to tell him.

Not now, I decide immediately.

He looks around dourly.  "What are you doing?"

"Baking."

"How are you?"

He never asks how I am, especially not first thing in the morning.  I try to find something to say that is not a lie.

"I got a good night's sleep."

"Where's Stormy?" he asks, and I realize that I forgot to let Stormy into the house to jump up on the bed next to him after our walk.  

He lets Stormy in and retreats to the bedroom.

~

Two minutes later I get a call on my cell.  It's a local number so I know who it is.

"This is Anne.  How's the cat?"

Callie seems to be okay.

"Are you sure?" I ask.  

No bleeding and she's not tender to the touch.

How can that be?  The image of Callie in Nailah's jaws being shaken is imprinted on my retinas.

"I'll pay for x-rays, for whatever she needs," I say.

"We have something to be grateful for," says Callie's owner.  

~ 

I walk gingerly through the rest of the day.  Turkey, dinner rolls, pie, family rituals.

I thank God that the little black cat is alive.  It's a miracle.  The great God of the Universe--Melech ha'Olam--has looked with favor on us.

Still, I am puzzled.