giving

'That cock knew the weather was going to change,' said Clare.

— Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D'Urbervilles

It was a weekend of cats. After Saturday's rehearsal, I was led by accident (some would say a weird feline psychic force) to the open spaces at SMU, where I set my eyes on a calico with caramel coloured arms and a drizzle of fudge swirled into its back. "Hello," it meowed (I'm making up the story as I go along.) "Hello," I replied. In the cool late-afternoon breeze we looked into each other's eyes, searching for an interspecies commonality we could, so to speak, fraternize over. 

Shortly, I became acutely aware of the strange posture I adopted, the large volume of traffic around me, and how the cat delighted in watching me make a fool out of myself in these public spaces. Later on, I splurged on a pair of expensive Klipsch earphones — this was the the cat's doing. 

I should also mention that my neighbourhood had been blessed with a litter of kittens which have now grown up into adorable, angsty, sensitive and needy pubescent cats. They have been sort-of adopted by a family living on the ground floor, but then again, ground floor units have always taken upon themselves the well-being of these "community cats." This very same Saturday, I spent the entire evening playing with these beautiful things that I will term "pre-cats." They almost ruined the Doinky Doodles (I hope google picks up on this) stuffed-toy thingums that I hung on my bag, but it was for a good cause, so,  whatever, I guess. BTW I've only ever said "I love you" to a cat, so there you go, that's the story of my life.