I have often discussed the cats I see on my walks to and from work. Zeke. Luke. Calvin. Minnie Mommie. Oscar. But I have never been armed with a camera and really, it was just too bad. Every one of these creatures is most attractive.
However, only last week that situation changed.
I was walking home, peering into yards, noting how the summer was abusing the flowers. It was then that I saw it, butterscotch and white; crouching on the path that laid a serpentine of brickwork through a garden of dried colors.
It purposefully looked to one side, apparently trying to insult me in its subtle, feline way, by feigning interest in the street sign on the corner. It was a test, obviously – to see if its preference for a tall inanimate object would take my two-legged superiority down a notch or two.
Then it looked at me with its pale olive eyes, squeezing them once or twice, like a timid pressure of the hand, prepatory to a full and confident handshake.
Still, its general expression said, "Oh. You're still here. Are you going to do something interestiing, or what?"
Last week I saw a cat. And now I have proof.