9.
Napa, California—November 10, 2010Kelly steps out of the back door from the kitchen, saying, “Lunch is ready, Rob. C’mon in.”
But for a moment I’m too dumbstruck to respond, still watching the finely sculptured steel cat stalking the rusting chickens. Nothing is moving, but I can actually sense the panic of the six chickens, their terror hanging heavy in the air, almost making my skin tingle…
“What’s wrong?” Kelly asks, concern obvious in her voice. She begins moving toward me, frowning.
But I stop her by pointing at the metal cat. “Look at that.”
She laughs. “It’s Peewee.”
Peewee?
She can tell by my expression that I have no idea what she means.
“I mean it looks like Peewee,” she explains. Still, I don’t know who she means.
“Peewee…a cat?” I ask in a puzzled tone.
She nods, s
