Part 6
Rachel answered before Dan could. “Sunday dinner is at five. You’re welcome with or without a carrier.”
Walter came the following Sunday and brought a store-bought apple pie with the price sticker still attached. The week after that, he arrived with a box of old electrical parts for Eli’s lighthouse. By his fourth visit, Rachel no longer set a place for him; she simply knew which chair he used.
Pilot divided those evenings without anxiety. He greeted Walter at the door and often slept against his leg during dinner. When Walter left, the cat watched from the window, then returned to Eli’s room. The ritual contained none of the desperate vigilance of Bay Three. Walter always came back.
At Eli’s next routine appointment, his cardiologist agreed that a multidisciplinary review in Portland made sense and submitted the referral. Walter could not shorten the wait, but he knew how medical teams organized records from Miriam’s years in rehabilitation. He helped Dan arrange two years of reports and drove Rachel to the records office on a morning Dan could not leave the terminal.
The referral packet was complete by Thursday. On Friday, Ray called Dan into the terminal office.
That weekend, a regional travel page had reposted one of the early videos of Pilot checking the Portland coach. Thousands of people saw it after the cat was already gone. When two visitors came to photograph the “waiting cat” and found an empty patch beneath the board, they asked questions the terminal had never publicly answered.
On the desk lay three screenshots from a local Facebook group. The first showed Pilot waiting under the arrivals board. The second showed an empty Bay Three. The third, grainy but recognizable, showed Dan carrying the plastic carrier across the employee parking lot.
WHERE DID THE PORT ALDER STATION CAT GO? read the post above them.
Most comments were concerned rather than vicious, but concern had quickly turned into accusation. One person claimed the terminal had disposed of Pilot before a health inspection. Another said an employee had stolen a beloved community mascot. A local reporter had emailed the company asking whether the cat was alive.
“I told corporate you filed with animal services and paid for a veterinary exam,” Ray said. “But you removed an animal from company property without completing our custody form.”
“You gave me until closing.”
“I did. I should have documented it. That part is on me.” Ray turned one screenshot around. “This part is on both of us.”
Dan read the comments again. People who had passed Pilot for three days now wrote as though they had all been personally responsible for him. His first impulse was to post a photograph from Eli’s room and explain everything. He stopped before taking out his phone. Eli’s illness was not a receipt Dan owed strangers.
“What happens now?”
“Paid leave until the review Monday. Bring the vet record, the found-animal report, and anything showing you attempted to locate the owner.”
“And if corporate decides I stole him?”
Ray looked tired. “Then they can discipline you for removing an animal from company property without authorization, up to termination. I’m not saying they will.”
Dan left through the same lobby where Pilot had waited. The arrivals board clicked above him, indifferent to the fact that his job had just been reduced to a meeting on someone else’s calendar.
At home, he told Rachel after Eli went to bed. The loss of his paycheck was not immediate, but they both knew how little room their budget had. Veterinary bills, medication copays, gas to Portland—nothing dramatic had to happen for a family like theirs to fall behind. A few ordinary expenses arriving together could do it.
Walter phoned during their conversation. Denise had shown him the Facebook post.
“Don’t answer anybody tonight,” he said. His voice had strengthened with rehab, and so had his habit of giving instructions. “I have Pilot’s original adoption papers, the foster authorization, photographs going back eleven years, and the microchip certificate. I’ll write a statement confirming that you protected him before I could speak and that I approved the arrangement as soon as I was able.”
“You weren’t able to give permission when I took him.”
“No. You acted in an emergency and then spent two weeks trying to find me.”
“That may not matter to corporate.”
“Then they can explain to me what you should have done differently.” Walter paused. “Leave him on wet concrete? Hand him over without preserving the only link between us? I’m an old man, Dan, not an invalid argument.”
Despite everything, Dan laughed. It was the first time Walter had heard him do it.
At 8:00 Monday morning—the same hour county animal services had once been scheduled to collect Pilot—Dan entered a conference room at the terminal. A human-resources representative joined by video. Ray sat to Dan’s left.
The chair on his right was empty until the door opened and Walter walked in carrying a thick blue folder…
To read the rest of the story – CLICK the NEXT button 👇👇👇