There! I saw it again. Something had dashed behind a stack of wooden lobster pots.

An uneasy growl rumbled deep in my throat.

So much for playing it cool.

“Come out of there,” I said. “Let’s deal with this muzzle to muzzle.”

A lobster pot shook.

I growled again, and set my paws in the ground, my shoulders hunched as I got ready to spring. “Show yourself!”

A lobster pot teetered at the top of the pile, and then fell off with a crash and a yowl.

I jumped, my heart pounding. “Who’s there?”

“I think I twisted my tail,” a little voice said. “Ow! Definitely, twisted.”

“Don’t make me come back there and find you. You won’t like it!”

The pile of lobster pots shook, and then a small round cat climbed up onto the top one: Princess Grace.

From “Saving Scrumpy