The village chalked it off as a random drive-by when my neighbor lady stopped at the traffic sign down at the pavement and a bullet shattered the rear-window of her bronco.
Lots of head-shaking, muttering that it’s seeping up the mountain with all these newcomers. Speculation that she has a secret boyfriend, or that maybe drugs played a role. Nobody paid any attention to the seemingly unrelated fact that she owns a pit-bull.
Then there were all those dead birds and small animal carcasses showing up on the front porch.
Still, a cat’s a cat. You come to expect that sort of thing.
But, when it comes late evening and it’s time to get the felines inside for their own good, when a person makes a grab and suddenly finds himself frog-marched indoors to open a can of tuna, that’s too much.