We return to camp. It’s been disturbed. “Snow leopard footprints,” I declare.
A dismayed Susan cries from the tent, “It ate my fur coat! My wedding ring was in the pocket!” There are tufts of fur all over the snow, but no ring.
“Not to worry,” I reassure her as I rummage through the Jeep, “I have just the thing.” I pull out a small rectangle of carpet and plop it on the ground in plain sight. There is no greater temptation to a cat with a hairball.