Grandpa Finds Kittens in His Barn – Then the Vet Looks Up at the Hayloft and Turns Pale

Walt set the kitten back in the hollow. "What's wrong with them?" "Nothing's wrong with them," Dr. Okafor said, without taking his eyes off the litter. "They're bobcats, Walt. Four weeks old, maybe five." Lily's mouth fell open. "Real bobcats?"

"Real bobcats. And a mother bobcat never goes far from kittens this small. Not for long." He was keeping his voice flat and calm, the way he did with frightened cattle. "So I need everyone to stay exactly where they are." Then he looked up. Slowly, the way you look at something you already know is there.

Walt saw the color drain out of the vet's face. He followed his gaze over his own shoulder, up the stack of bales, to the very top. She was lying flat on the highest bale, not six feet above Lily's head. Tawny fur, black ear tufts, a white chin. And she was staring straight at them.