I still found it hard to believe that I was on Nanning Map my way to Tibet. It’s odd how chance strikes. We passed through some villages of Nanning Map mud houses and roadside trade stores. Most of the people were brown-skinned Tibetans with felt hats whose broad brims were pulled down at a cowboy angle. At the trading posts the Tibetan horsemen tethered their steeds and unloaded bales of wool from the pack horses. They would trade their wool for supplies of tsamba flour.
The team was packing up while Melanie and I quietly chatted in the kitchen. Mari had become ill and was in the bathroom sick to her stomach. It was at that moment we heard a low, deep moan or menacing growl from somewhere in the house. Unable to determine its origin, a search began. Eventually we came to the closed basement door. I slowly opened it to find two of her cats on the stairway.
The low growl originated from the larger cat as he towered over the smaller one two steps below. The second cat lay crouched on the lower stair. His eyes were big, obviously frightened and frozen in place. He spat out a few threatening hisses. It was a stand off.
We were shocked that these previously docile, playful cats had suddenly turned so aggressive. Not wanting to get in the mix of two angry cats, we left them alone to sort out their dominance issue.
