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It made sense. A raccoon could never have ripped off the lathe and forced open the trapdoor.
    “Alex,” I said unnecessarily as everyone had rushed into the room. “The raccoons are back.”

 
    Ten minutes later, with drapes closed, but the moaning still going on at least periodically, we had come up with a plan. A second plan. The first one had been to wait the cat out until it gave up and went away. The sound was proving too horrible though and we were nervous about how it kept testing the window.
    Since there was no phone, someone was going to have to go for help. The cat was very near the Jackmans ’ car, and had in fact climbed on it with muddy paws, but Alex’s was a somewhat safer distance away, not too far from the front door.
    But just to be extra cautious, we decided that I would go upstairs and throw out a turkey leg and, if necessary, the rest of the pumpkin pie on the backside of the cabin, thus luring the cat even farther away from the door.
    Alex would take the shotgun, but we all agreed that we didn’t want to shoot the beast since it was likely endangered and especially since Alex had recalled his aunt saying something about a new private sanctuary for retired circus animals going in just a few miles away. It seemed a stretch that this mountain lion could be one of their trained creatures, but it was just possible, and if anyone would know what to do about this big cat, it was them.
    Blue wouldn’t like it, but she was staying with me. She had stopped howling but obviously the call of the wild was upon her, and I didn’t think we could trust her to go straight out and get in the car. I wouldn’t risk having her mauled. Better that Alex kill the cat—though I prayed fiercely that that wouldn’t happen.
    The first problem occurred when we discovered that because of the deep overhang of the upstairs dormers, it would be necessary for me to actually climb out of the roof and do my turkey tossing from there. Thank goodness we still had a turkey leg because with the wind gathering strength and the rain beginning to fall, there was little hope of being able to fling slices of turkey to the kind of distance needed.
    The roof was steep and the old shingles were rather worn and slickened by the wet. We were also losing the sun to the mountains in the west. Mr. Jackman held the turkey leg while I climbed out. He would shout down to Alex and Agatha when I gave the all clear on the cat. Alex would run for the car and Agatha would lock up the door behind him. Everything would be fine if I could just not fall off the roof.
    Once I was safely out, Mr. Jackman handed me the turkey leg. He held the pie in reserve. I crawled toward the chimney with the roasted poultry in hand. I arrived at the roof’s peak with the leg looking rather the worse for wear. I inched out to the end of the roof and looked over the side.
    “Hi, kitty, kitty,” I called, feeling like an idiot.
    The golden eyes looked up at me, still and glass smooth, a lot like Aphrodite’s. The similarities ended there though. Leaving aside the matter of size, Aphrodite had never made such a weird chuffing noise followed by a yowl that shook the shingles.
    I quickly pulled off some meat and dropped it down to the cat. It sniffed and then ate it at once. The eyes returned to my face.
    “Okay, kitty. You want the rest, you’ll have to chase it.” And with that I hurled the turkey leg as far behind the house as I could.
    The mountain lion stared at me for a minute, clearly disbelieving that I had been so rude, but then it sauntered off after the hurled poultry.
    “Okay, he’s in back of the house!” I called to Mr. Jackman who in turn relayed the message. A moment later Alex emerged, shotgun and car keys in hand, and dashed for the car. I didn’t take a single breath until he was safely inside and the car started. Then, with even more care than I had taken in climbing up the roof, I slid back down again. Mr. Jackman helped me inside.
    Then we had