Past Flagstaff and Sunset Crater, while I wiggle cramped toes and pinyons grow scragglier with each mile, my teenager, Ava, asks, “Will they ever shut up?”

I glance in the rearview mirror, to the truck’s backseat, filled with double-stacked cat carriers. Fluffy gray Gracie glares with disdain. Sometimes cuddly, sometimes growly, tortoiseshell Minerva hisses. “You’d think they’d have grown hoarse by now.”

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