Attempted murder in the Upper Valley.

A loud thump in the night: I jump up out of bed. There is a large cat, not of the orange tabby variety, with a brass candlestick in his paws. He drops it for a second time when he sees me coming. It lay on the floor.

His aura is one of pure innocence. Hey laughs and says, “Who me? You think I was going to carry the candlestick to the bedroom, jump up on the bed and beat you senseless? Oh, I laugh at such a silly idea. Besides, someone already beat me to it.” He licks his paw casually, “Now, you go back to bed and I’ll clean-up in here,” he purrs.

I did, he didn’t.