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know he’s lying, but if he has to lie that badly he must really need the money.”
    She paused. Her hand shifted slightly toward her pocket. Then I smelled it. Fear. The man was afraid. Fear has a distinctive smell and it isn’t a pleasant one. I slowly moved in closer. This man stank with fear. His right hand began moving toward Mom’s arm. Not one finger, but the whole hand. It started to open. His hand was ready to grab Mom. His eyes shifted to Mom’s money pocket. His muscles tensed. Now, his body language was threatening.
    I growled. “Mom, don’t do it. Walk away. Walk away. Tell him there’s a cop right over there.”
    In the past, Mom always scolded me for growling at a human, but not this time. Her hand backed away from her pocket. She began walking away. In a calm and sincere tone she said, “I’m very sorry, but I simply don’t carry any cash with me when I’m walking in the park. Maybe the police officer I saw right over there can help you. Good luck.”
    She quickened her steps and put some distance between us and the man. She said nothing more about it. However, later that evening Mom realized what had happened.
    As she was fixing our dinner, she watched the local news. The reporter told about a man in the park approaching people and asking for gas money. When a person pulled out a wallet, he snatched it and ran off. The police were still trying to find him. The newscast showed a police sketch of what the thief looked like.
    Mom stood staring at the TV. She walked over to the table and sat down. Her mouth was open, her breathing accelerated.
    “Spunky, did you hear that? Look, look at that picture. That’s the same man who approached us in the park.”
    Then her eyes and her mouth opened even wider. “Spunky. You knew, didn’t you? It was you that got me to walk away. I was wondering where in heaven’s name I’d gotten that idea to tell him I’d just seen a cop. I hadn’t seen a police officer all day, but there I was telling him I’d just seen one. It must have thrown him off. He didn’t bother us at all. You saved us, Spunk! You were right there with me when I stopped at the ATM machine before we went to the park. You knew I had all that cash in my pocket. You knew, didn’t you?”
    Of course I knew.
    Mom sat on the floor. I cocked my head and stared deeply into her eyes. “You’re catching on, Mom.” I gave her two licks to the nose.
    “Spunky, I don’t know how, but I heard your warning. I must have understood what was beneath that growl. Isn’t that amazing? How did you do it? Come on, Spunk, do it again—go ahead, say something.”
    I wagged. Mom was staring so intently into my face it made me snort. I stared back. Soon I had her laughing. Poor thing, she didn’t yet understand it’s impossible to hear anything when you are trying so hard. You can’t make it happen by waving a magic wand or wiggling your nose. You have to be in that quiet place—the zone. Yet, despite her lack of knowledge on how to activate it, I was now certain, Mom indeed had the gift.

M om had a new client due to come on line at nine p.m. Mom always wanted us settled and quiet before the appointment time. This way when the client signed on, they didn’t see a cat streaking across the room, though Bobby has been known to cut it close. I settled in and looked around. Tonight everyone was present. Bobby was already in his favorite spot, up on the bookcase behind Mom. His spot was above the camera’s range and had a good view of the client’s face. Sessions are one of the few times Bobby stays quiet. Once before, he’d gotten mouthy and Mom had locked him in the laundry room until the session was over. He’s been a quiet audience ever since. Fearless was sitting on his favorite cardboard box, while Sweetie and Fancy-Pants were napping in their baskets.
    We waited. By ten after nine the screen was still blank. No one had showed up. I started to say something about it to Fearless when we heard the