There’s dropping by unannounced, and then there’s what happened in La Verne, California this past weekend—a level of unexpected guest few homeowners (or their pool floaties) could predict. According to KTLA via NewsNation, Jeff Tenney was minding his own business on a Saturday afternoon when the security cameras at his mother’s house captured a sizable, four-legged intruder padding confidently through the open front door. In the kitchen, Jeff spotted movement in the dining room; he told KTLA, “Right away, I knew it was a mountain lion.” That’s a statement rarely heard outside nature documentaries and, occasionally, certain corners of California suburbia.
The Hasty Retreat: All Wet, No Dignity
As Tenney described to the outlet, his first concern leapt to his dog, who, in a stroke of luck, was asleep in the front yard. Jeff headed straight for the door, only to accidentally lock eyes with the big cat. At that point—the home security footage reviewed by KTLA confirms—the mountain lion opted for panic over confrontation, barreling out the back screen and directly into the pool. The brief tenure in the house ended not in a protracted standoff, but in a soggy, frantic dash punctured by a now-deceased pool floaty. Jeff shared photographic evidence with the station: a simple, deflated raft, its fate sealed by a set of claws unaccustomed to poolside etiquette.
Summing it all up with the kind of understated understatement few can muster after a big cat invades their family home, Jeff quipped, “Just another Saturday in La Verne!”
Neighborhood Worries and Frayed Nerves
While this feline’s unexpected swim adds some levity, the family’s concern for the community is tangible. Cindi Tenney, Jeff’s mother and the home’s rightful owner, felt compelled to notify the neighborhood, as she told KTLA. Her street, after all, is filled with children and families who might not welcome charismatic megafauna into their daily routines. Cindi’s efforts to alert authorities met a hiccup when La Verne Police referred her to the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, only for her call to be stymied by closed offices—a detail noted by KTLA that may resonate with anyone trying to report wildlife drama on a tight weekend schedule.
The recent incident isn’t just a harmless anomaly. Context offered by KTLA points to an alarming event just the previous weekend in Malibu, where, as reported by the Associated Press via WSAV-TV, an 11-year-old girl was bitten by a mountain lion outside her family’s home. The child was near the family’s chicken coop when the attack happened. California Department of Fish and Wildlife spokesperson Peter Tira told the Los Angeles Times that the girl received minor hospital treatment. In that case, the mountain lion even chased the mother and another sibling before being scared off—thanks, unusually, to the noise from a stun gun wielded by a family member. In a detail highlighted by the AP, DNA analysis still needs to confirm if the euthanized cougar found in the area was the same one involved in the bite.
State data, as summarized in the same Associated Press article, show that mountain lion attacks on people are rare—there have been only 27 confirmed cases since 1986, most of them nonfatal. Still, even one backyard encounter is enough to send ripples through neighboring communities, especially in areas with lots of kids or outdoor pets.
Sharing the Border with the Wild
The recurring theme? The edge between “safe human zone” and “wild animal habitat” is, perhaps unsurprisingly, more porous than most would like to believe. The National Park Service’s recommendations—cited by KTLA—are sobering. Should you find yourself face-to-face with a mountain lion, their advice is: stay calm, don’t run or crouch down, and make yourself appear as intimidating as a flustered human possibly can. Once safe, sightings should be reported to both local authorities and wildlife experts—assuming, of course, someone answers the phone.
Given the circumstances, it’s tempting to wonder what the mountain lion made of the whole ordeal. Did it expect to find prey, or simply stumble into an unfamiliar territory and promptly regret it? The backyard pool likely wasn’t on its itinerary.
A Suburban Tale for the Ages
In the end, this La Verne episode closed with more laughter than tragedy—at least for the humans involved. The Tenney dog wisely spent the whole crisis napping, nobody was hurt, and the only real casualty was an inflatable pool ornament. Still, Cindi Tenney’s concerns echo louder than a poolside splash. If a mountain lion can amble through the front door and do a cannonball en route to the hills, it raises the question: how prepared are we to actually share space with creatures who’ve been here long before subdivisions and floaties? Are events like these simply a quirk of California life, or a sign that the lines we draw between wild and civilized are, at best, temporary?
Maybe it’s just another Saturday in La Verne. Or maybe, as human sprawl continues its slow march into former wilderness, this kind of unexpected guest list will get even longer. Would you leave your door open, knowing who might wander in—or do you check the pool for footprints in the morning, just in case?
