In Chapter 4:

Anne remained nearby with her green gaze on him. She blushed and glanced down, still a demure person, even as a spinster. Then she screamed for all she was worth, piercing his ears. 

Mick jumped away from her, splattering his full glass onto the floor. He searched for what frightened her in time to see a large rat scuttle across the toe of his boot. “Holy—” 

Anne squealed again and slid behind Mick while still holding Beth. The tiny girl grasped his shoulder. “I don’t like it.”

Mam Muldoon’s gray tabby cat tore through the open doorway in pursuit of the rat. Family and neighbors scrambled out of the animals’ paths with such shrieks and nimbleness Mick never imagined he’d witness. People jumped out of the way, or over and onto chairs, then out the door — if they were near enough to it. They vacated the cottage quick as a wink in their panic. 

The rat zigzagged amongst the furniture and between the feet of those who hesitated to move. It wiggled under Mam Muldoon’s vacant, fancy stuffed chair. 

The spectacle captivated him, and he froze against the wall with the Browns. He craned his neck to check outside for Mam’s whereabouts. Orla accompanied her.

Even the screams of the crowd hadn’t deterred the tabby’s hunt. Single-minded, she focused on that rat without a concern for anyone who may trod upon her tail. She hunched into a stalk — tense, with her head down. The tabby flattened her ears. She scanned the floor, pupils dilated as her fuzzed-up tail twitched this way and that. 

Anne remained behind Mick with Beth in her arms, shushing the young girl’s whimpers. She peeked around him and whispered, “Think she’ll get it?” 

“’Tis sure. Mam’s tabby is an expert hunter.” Mick stared at the marvelous predator of rodents. “But I wish I’d Da’s shillelagh with me to give it a quick whack upon its head.” 

“You’d surely crush it then. I couldn’t. I abhor it when cats kill things. Yet I can’t stop watching. Rats are the most detestable of all God’s creatures.” 

“Aye, we all detest rats for being the devil’s tools.” Mick wanted to help the cat, then noticed his brother sneaking up behind her. “Ho there, Ed.” 

Ed pounced on the tabby, wound tight as a spring. Her reaction was immediate and vicious in her surprise. 

The cat clawed, wailed, growled, everything cats ever do when foiled or frightened, causing the mourners to shout and laugh during the attack while dogs barked in the distance. 

Mick glanced at Anne clamping her hand over her mouth, and at Beth with her eyes as big as 

Mam’s doily. He howled with laughter.