We were again in a living situation with a busy street and no yard, and that can be hard on a cat, especially one that grew up with outdoor privileges. I discovered, though, that if I left the back window open Izzy could jump onto the trunk of a palm, and scootch down to the carport roof and into the courtyard. A reasonable compromise, but I soon began finding bird corpses in the house. Always fascinated by birds but never developing the skill to catch them, Izzy turned to raiding their nests in the palm: easy pickings. But she eventually drew the attention of the neighborhood tough. She never wanted to be the sole cat in a territory, and never fought with other cats, even if they came into the house. That back window was in G’s daughter’s room, and she once raced into the kitchen calling for help: Izzy had seen that big black cat and raced up the palm and jumped through the window. Except the window was shut. Izzy was two floors up, hanging onto the sill and scrabbling for purchase with her back claws. The black cat was creeping up the palm. I pulled her in while G squirted the tough with a hose.