The following short story is a continuation of the Seer series:
And so this Saturday morning I am standing at the end of my driveway. I have just stuffed a handful of bills in the mailbox as I look around to locate the source of the cacophony of squealing children and barking dogs. I see the young teenage boys running behind three leashed dogs, big dogs, barking and straining in their pursuit of a cat. I am not troubled for the cat. It is faster than greased lightning. But then I see a red-headed, freckle-faced boy ahead of the pack as he raises a mewling fuzzball of kitten in his fist and he dances in circles before the unruly hoard. The dogs leap forward; their boys hold them back, laughing hysterically. Then the boy pulls back his arm and launches the kitten.
"Stop," I yell at them.
The kitten lands on his feet and skitters under a large bush near the end of my property, then zigzags across the lawn toward my house.
"Shame on you."
They laugh and contemplate tearing across my lawn after the kitten. "Let the dogs go," someone yells.
I raise my cell phone. "The cops are on their way."
They scurry off.
And then I see him--a small teary-eyed boy shuffling down the sidewalk, choking back his sobs.
"Your kitten?" I ask.
He pushes out his lower lip and nods, eyes me suspiciously.
"I think we might find your kitten. Shall we look?"
He looks up at me from under long wet lashes.
"He will be very frightened." Somewhere a little heart is pounding in a 2-pound, wide-eyed kitten. "What is your kitten's name?"
I detect the light trembling of leaves and I look up at the flame-red blooms of the African tulip tree. I sigh. "I think we need a ladder." I point.
He smiles and wipes his eyes with his chubby little fist.
I wish I could dish out some karma to this little boy's tormentors but I will settle for the safe return of the kitten to the little boy who loves her. He is a good soul rising. Anyone can see that. I send him off with a cookie and a kitten.
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