I suppose that Frank might have displayed a moment of surprise in his eyes at my question, but, if so, it was gone in a second.
“Good morning, my dear,” he said, then stood up, poured me a cup of coffee, handed me the mug, and offered me a piece of toast. “You are certainly never boring, are you?” he said, rubbing his jaw, a habit he seemed to have even when he was freshly shaven as he was that morning.
I gripped my filled mug, delighted the coffee was not only ready-made but steaming hot. I shook my head at his offer of toast and included a polite, “No thank you for the toast, and thank you so much for the coffee,” accompanied by a genuine smile of gratefulness. The truth is that I actually preferred the nutty and grainy bread as it came from the baker’s — in its natural state. Why spoil perfection?
I ignored what he’d said. The villagers would have called me boring. But, what was I supposed to say to such a statement? No, I’m not or yes, I am?
Figuring that lots of people had strange nighttime visions, I just brushed over the question, saying that I’d had a dream about a cat and wondered why I hadn’t seen any around.
He nodded. “Yes, Tinker Town has cats. But most of them stay inside. We have an occasional cougar or coyote that sometimes enters town and prowls about. A small cat could become a tasty treat.”
I reflected a moment. Although I’d been on the lookout for such predators during our overnight camping, I’d never seen one. A wild boar was enough. I mentioned the latter and told Frank the story about my encounter with the one in the words.
Frank’s eyes got big, and he coughed into his hand, not so much because he’d swallowed wrong, but because I think he was trying to stop what he’d been about to say. Instead, he shook his head, drank some of his coffee, and picked up the other piece of toast on his plate.
“I’m changing the conversation, because I’m still shaking over what could have happened to you and your fine stallion,” he said. “So, why, were you really asking about cats? Are you wanting a pet for the boys . . . or one for yourself?”