Last night, Linda calls for her outdoor cat, Gizmo, off and on over two hours.
No-show Gizmo.
Around hour 1.5, there's a skunk on the back deck, drinking from the water dish she leaves out overnight during the summer.
No Gizmo, which is great.
One skunk or another visits every few nights for a drink or for the peanuts on the front lawn intended for the scrub jays. Sometimes 2 together on the lawn.
The skunk goes stiff, tail bolt upright, does its little front-leg stamp dance. Its line of sight leads to a racoon, which looks at the skunk like "what's your problem?"
Racoon drinks, leaves.
Skunk leaves.
Still no Gizmo. He goes to ground somewhere, which is good because the racoon's bigger than he is and this fire-point Siamese weights 16 pounds.
Around 11:10 p.m., I wander out of my bedroom. Linda's in the kitchen, calling Gizmo through the side window.
Gizmo's sitting on the deck, bolt upright, staring at the door.
After he's inside and Linda's calmed down, she tells me about the other 4-legged, furry mammals. She left her chair by the door only 30 seconds before I spotted him.
Which means Gizmo showed up an instant after she walked the width of the house to call him from the Far Side.
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