I just had an amazing moment. I was lying on T.’s bed writing in my LSB (a book so special that it has its own acronym for Little Special Book), and something out the window of T.’s sixth floor apartment caught my eye. A black cat was making its way along the length of the gutter of the building across the street, also on the sixth floor. It was sleek and shiny in the late evening sun, and I decided to try to get its attention.

“Maow,” I said, because I’ve heard that cats in these parts say such things. The cat continued to stalk its invisible prey. “MAOW,” I said louder, and it still ignored me. I stood up and leaned out the window: “MAOW!” The cat stopped, and looked over at me with eyes so bright green that I could see them clearly from across the street. It didn’t say anything, so I, ever the gregarious American, said again “Maow?”

It was then that I noticed a young woman out on her veranda, on her telephone. She looked over at me and smiled, knelt down and started making the international cat noise for “Come here, silly: I feed you every morning.” You know: the kissy sounds. The cat slowly made its way back along the length of the gutter to her balcony, where it leapt (quite ungracefully) over a planter box, and into the woman’s arms. She smiled and nodded to me. I smiled and ducked back inside.