He studied me for a long moment, then said gently:
“In that case… you’d better sit down.”

I didn’t yet know what I was about to hear, but a cold shiver ran down my back, and my heart skipped a beat.

I sat automatically on the edge of the couch, the cup of cold tea in my hands chilling my fingers. Lily nestled close to me, and Misty, as though she knew this conversation was about her, slowly walked out of the kitchen and sat directly in front of the officer, staring at him with her steady green eyes.

“This morning,” he began, “we found an empty doghouse in the neighbor’s yard. The puppies were gone.”

“So what?..” My voice trembled, betraying my unease.

“The owner says she saw your cat carrying them off, one by one.” He paused, as if searching for the right words.

The neighbor sighed and, lowering her eyes, added:

“Those puppies… they’re mine. Their mother died this morning. And your Misty…”

I looked at my cat in bewilderment. She was purring softly, pulling the puppies closer between her paws.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” I said. “She must have done it because she still felt the need to be a mother, even though we had already found other homes for the puppies. I’ll give them back to you.”

Mrs. Miller stood watching the peaceful scene for a moment—Misty licking the little ones tenderly and guarding them like a devoted mother. Then she said quietly:

“Let them stay here. I think… it’ll be better for everyone.”

I nodded, and Misty, as if she understood every word, pulled her new babies even closer to her.