She moved with ease because she could. She was made that way. Long, lean, nimble. There wasn’t any reason to chase her. She was out of his reach, so he didn’t try. He stayed put. Didn’t move. Just watched her. Watched her until she was gone. Then he felt sad, angry, mean. He had missed his chance. But there would be another one, maybe not as pretty, maybe a little slower. Then he could be what he really was and do what he was meant to do. He was, after all, a dog who hates cats.