George couldn’t let it be. He and his wife were visiting, and he’d brought over a radio-controlled car. It was racing around after the cat. When the Grey Menace, Clancy, tired of being chased, I warned him there would be consequences. Creep, creep, creep, the car slowly approached Clancy, then backed up teasing. I sensed that Clancy was nearing the end of his patience. An attack was impending. “George, give it up.” I reached to slap the control from his hand. Clancy now was glaring directly at George. “George!” Too late, twenty-one pounds of cat lept towards George.
The little vehicle spun in circles. George ran through the kitchen and living room, the cat in hot pursuit. Clancy uttered a final battle cry and slammed into the screen door through which George has just exited.
Silence. “Wes? What’s going on?’ asked my wife. From outside, George whimpered, ” Can I get my car?” ” Now’s not a great time, George, he’s carrying it off. Spoils of war, and all that sort of stuff.” Clancy picked up the car, carried over to his bed, sat there, and challenged the world to take his new toy away.