The next step in what was becoming a very long day was spent settling Isis in her new basement home. I had a guest bedroom there. My three cats followed in excited anticipation when I carried her down. They seemed eager for me to allow this noisy feline out of her crate. But my gut told me I should wait. Neither Isis nor I needed any added stress today.

I set her up with a clean litter box, fresh water and the fanciest cat food I could find—a small can of grilled salmon. I didn’t let her out of the carrier until I’d closed out my three curious friends. I heard Merlot mewing in protest after I shut the door, but this was how it had to be for now. I sat on the floor near the crate and set Isis free.

She sauntered out and slipped by, totally ignoring me. After an inspection of the room, the litter box and the food, she came back my way. Her tail twitched in irritation after she sat down in front of me. She stared up, emerald green eyes narrowed. Her gaze didn’t waver from my face.

What did she expect from me? I was beginning to think that curtseying might be the answer. I returned her stare, and we sat like that for about twenty seconds.

Isis gave in first. I considered that a good sign. Maybe she realized I was top cat in this house. Then she stood and walked regally back to the corner she’d inspected earlier. I’d lined a cat bed with one of my little quilts. She stepped in, sat and began to groom herself. She was done with me.

I opened the door about a foot and slipped through, making sure not to allow Chablis and Merlot inside. Syrah, who I assumed was bored with this nonsense, was nowhere to be seen. I’d no sooner made it upstairs to the kitchen when my stepdaughter, Kara, used her key to come in through the back door.

“Hi, Jillian.” She smiled and set down her purse on the small table by the door.

“Hey there,” I said. “I’m so glad you showed up looking all young and peppy. I need some of what you’ve got going on.” I gave her hug.