“Daddy! Kitty cat!” Aaron babbled.
“Yes, hon, kitty cat.” Probably his neighbor’s Siamese, peeing in the coleus he had planted the week before. Thanks a lot. The paper towels eluded him; Tom moved to the laundry room closet, the phone still scrunched in his shoulder.
“Kitty cat! Kitty cat!” His son’s voice rose into that brain-squeezing toddler pitch that only small human beings can muster.
Tom opened the closet door and twelve feet away Aaron screamed, a genuine blood-curdler this time. “Daddy! Kitty cat!”
Tom turned from the closet and looked at his son. Aaron pointed gaily. “Kitty cat!”
A tiger stood outside the screen door.
Tom’s guts twisted in his belly, a sharp cramp of fear-pain.
The tiger peered in, only a screen between it and Aaron. Tom felt his heart rump-a-thump, like an old engine straining.