It was Fernando who awoke Lydia that morning late in June.

The huge black panther of a cat leapt from the floor onto Lydia's bedside table causing it to knock against the wall.

Lydia rolled over and opened her eyes. She could see by the night light that Fernando was standing on the bedside table, whipping his tail from side to side. He had separated the bone-colored mini-blinds with one paw so he could survey his territory.

He scanned the area with his golden laser eyes until he convinced himself that what he thought was out there, had either never been there at all, or had gone away.

He removed his fine black paw from the mini-blinds, walked across the table and got into the bed beside Lydia.

She stroked his silky black fur.

It was unusual behavior for Fernando. Fernando loved nothing more than snuggling in bed with them in the morning, but he rarely disturbed them until he was sure that one of them was awake.

When he had satisfied himself that this was the case, however, he hit the bottom of the bed with a force much greater than would be expected even from a twenty-five pound cat. Fernando did not jump on the bed, he jumped at it. Twenty-five pounds of cat hurtling through the air with the force of a cannon-ball.

Lydia and Lee Ray had even talked about it a few days before.

"Man, sometimes when he hits that bed, I don't hardly even know I'm awake." Lee Ray had said, standing beside the dishwasher. "How does he know?"

Lydia had smiled and handed Lee Ray a plate. "I think he listens, to everything we do."

"You think it's the way we move around in the bed when we're 'bout to get up?" Lee Ray had asked.

"I don't know." Lydia had replied. "But it's something."

"It's the way you breathe." Fernando had said. He had been listening even though he appeared not have been, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, licking his paw and using it to wash just in front of his right ear. Neither Lydia nor Lee Ray heard him, but that was often the case. He was used to that.

"You silly cat." Lydia said to Fernando that morning late in June as she scratched the top of his head.

Suddenly, Fernando's attention shifted from receiving Lydia's caresses to acute listening. He lifted his head, his ears scanning like little satellite dishes. He jumped down from the bed and trotted out of the room.

Lydia turned to look at the clock. Half past three.

Sighing, she moved over in the bed and snuggled up Lee Ray's warm back and tight runner's butt. She ran her hand over the milky skin of his shoulder and kissed his back. He reached and pulled her against him.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"What's the matter with Fernando?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to look around, it's almost four anyway." Lydia reluctantly rolled away from the inviting possibilities of Lee Ray Macon and pulled back the covers. Once out of bed, she drew around her a peach colored satin robe she had bought years ago at a flea market in Edinburgh. She once again admired the deep strip of beige lace at the sleeves and around the neck.

If you are going to get up at four in the morning, Lydia thought, you might as well try to feel elegant.

Lydia walked the house, three cats trailing behind her. She even checked the living and dining rooms which were closed off during the night to keep the cats off the good furniture, but she found nothing. There was no sign of what Fernando was so concerned about. Probably just a stray cat.

Who knew what went on in the brains of cats. Lydia had never encountered a species of animal with such a rich fantasy life.

Fernando might just as well have been imagining himself an undercover operative about to be assassinated, as looking for a stray cat.