Guess what the cat next door and my granddaughter in Bowling Green have in common?—Both occasionally leave their homebase and cause concern for those they leave behind.

This is what I learned during a conversation with my 90-year-old neighbor, Shelby Bale.

Shelby had just come into his house from working in the flower garden which separates his front yard from mine. He was still wearing his tan shorts and white shirt, but he was without the large hat he had worn earlier in the sunshine. He settled into a big, soft, easy chair, and began smoking a cigarette.

“A few mornings ago, I noticed a fox prance across the back of your yard and into mine. I was glad your cat wasn't anywhere around at the time,” I told him.

“Yes, and I've seen deer, too,” he said. “Animals have a keener sense of smell than we do. Sometimes Tuesday comes back inside rather quickly when he senses danger.”

Tuesday was a feral cat that came from somewhere unknown into our neighborhood a few years ago. The cat was in need on that Tuesday when Shelby discovered him, gave him the name and a warm place to drink some milk.

In a short time, Tuesday gave up his wildness and developed an appreciative relationship with his new provider. He quickly adjusted to living inside with Shelby and enjoyed the independence of leaving and returning through a small cat door.

“Do you find it difficult to let Tuesday go out alone where he might encounter a predator like a fox? Do you worry about him when he's gone?”

After a reflective moment, Shelby responded, “Well, it's his nature. I have to give him freedom. It would be a disservice to the cat to keep him inside all the time.”

“Sure, you want to provide what's best for the cat's nature.”

I agreed and then suggested, “This situation is something like what my daughter and son-in-law are experiencing. Today my 19-year-old granddaughter is driving home from Florida. She's spent a week there with a group of college coeds. She's been staying with her friends by the beach where—who knows?—perhaps there's been a different type of fox. Her parents—and yes, her grandparents, too—realize she and her friends are careful and make good decisions. Still, it's not always easy to let her go off on her own.”

Shelby nodded and admitted it has not always been easy for him to avoid worrying when Tuesday is out at night.

“I'm ready for bed by 10:00 or 10:30, but I'll stay up till midnight if Tuesday hasn't returned.”

Tuesday, who is black as the darkest night, has always returned, and Shelby's grateful for that.

We talked more about overcoming dread during those times when letting go can be worrisome.

Then I returned to my house, using the same path the fox took a few days before.

This thought came to me, “Cats and kids—can't keep 'em inside forever.” I know it was a rather quick thought, but then, so was my walk.

Back inside the house, my wife greeted me with the news. Our granddaughter had returned to Bowling Green, all safe and sound and happy. I was happy, too.