Tatonka, III

(some time later)

An enormous, dark feline suddenly pounced upon the kitchen table - Elsa withdrew, slight shock etched upon her face at the size of the thing.

“Oh!” gasped Caitie, evidently very irritated. “Bad cat!”

She got to her feet as Elsa ogled; Caitie suspected that Elsa had never seen a cat so big before - he wasn’t even fat, just shockingly muscular, most definitely the alpha male of the pack in the cottage.

Caitie started swatting at him with a rolled-up magazine until he retired his post on top of the empty bread platter. He plopped onto the linoleum, giving them both a pompous look before he stalked away with his nose in the air.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she said weakly to Elsa, who looked rather mystified. “He’s always been so rude to humans he isn’t used to.”

“What have you named him?” Elsa asked vaguely.

“Tatonka,” Caitie answered with a little grin.

“Tatonka?” Elsa repeated. She suddenly looked perplexed.

“Yes. It seemed to fit him, since he’s so large, you know?”

“I don’t understand.”

Caitie blinked. Then she laughed, scratching her head comically, like it amused her.

“It means ‘buffalo’!” she said, as though she expected this to explain everything. When Elsa refused to act enlightened, she sighed exasperatedly.

“Haven’t you ever seen Dances with Wolves?”

“Dancing wolves?” Elsa repeated, sounding numbly unimpressed.

Caitie slapped her forehead and groaned. Elsa wondered what she has said that was so obviously incompetent. Whatever it was, she didn’t seem to like the way Caitie was acting.

“Never mind your cat,” she snapped, voice scathing.

“Um. Sure, of course,” Caitie said.

She walked awkwardly to the cabinets. Once her back was turned, she let her face, which so often held a jubilant smile, crumple bitterly.

This girl, this person… she’s so lost, she thought. It’s going to take a miracle to make things work.