"Things went OK for quite a while," said Skratch. The Wabbit leaned forward to listen. Skratch's face was a feline delight as he recalled the sessions he'd spent with Puma in the grounds of the Old Abandoned Hospital. "Puma roamed at will, just as he had in his native Patagonia. He climbed trees, swam the river -
and he explored the basements of the old buildings." He paused and crossed his legs over his tail. "But it couldn't go on forever. People were starting to notice. Puma told me tales of a photographer who prowled the grounds with heavy equipment, looking for him. Time was running short." The Wabbit chortled. "Now that sounds familiar." Skratch laughed a hollow laugh. "It was when you appeared. You thought I was poaching." The Wabbit smiled a rueful smile. "Yes, I meant well - but I was the cause of that awful event with the Forestry Policeman." "What happened to him in the end?" asked Skratch. The Wabbit burst into helpless mirth, "I heard he was eaten by badgers." "Serve him right," scowled Skratch. He growled for a while. "Well - you know the rest, Wabbit. You found Puma a berth up in the Superga Hills and gave him a good cover story." The Wabbit waved a paw. "I don't think the wild boars were very happy, but you can't please everyone. Where is Puma by the way?" "Behind you," growled Puma ...
