Mary checked that the bag was firmly closed, and then she stood up. The washroom, only a few feet away, seemed to stretch further away from her. Could she make it, without Sir Edward making a sound?
Mary scurried into the washroom, clutching the cat-filled bag tightly in front of her. She sighed once she had locked the door behind her. She was safe, in the impenetrable fortress of the locked bus washroom.
She set the bag down, balanced over the sink. She unzipped it with one hand, using her other one to reach into her pocket for the small plastic bag of cat food.
There was one thing Mary had not taken into account. Sir Edward of Owl Thorne was a rather well behaved cat, but that was because she and Helen had been treating him well. Now, being stuck in a bag full of blankets for two hours did not appeal to Sir Edward at all. If the minds of cats can be read, and their thoughts can be interpreted, it can be said that Sir Edward of Owl Thorne had spent the last two hours contemplated the vengeance he would deliver to those who had been foolish enough to stuff him into a bag for that long, and treat him like luggage.
If Mary had known this, she would not have been surprised when Sir Edward scratched her cheek. Indeed, if Mary had known this, she probably would have decided to leave the bag containing him closed for the whole bus journey. And when she did open it, she would have made sure that she was standing far from the bag, and perhaps wearing gloves, and certainly not with her face right near the opening of the bag.
Having felt the scratch of cat claws on her right cheek, Mary quickly made an executive decision about what to do about Sir Edward. She opened the little plastic bag of cat food, and dumped it into the cat’s bag. Then she zipped up Sir Edward’s bag again.
Having contained the dangerously vengeful cat, Mary looked up to examine the scratch on her cheek in the mirror. Sir Edward had drawn blood. Oh shit, thought Mary.