Cats

I've been bird watching all morning. I can hardly relieve how sunny and clear it is for a day, late in November.

As I write, the house is being floated by tiny speaks of gold—magical rays of sun purging the usual gloominess; dancing above the once again blooming geranium...

The birds are as happy as they can be and the sky, amazingly blue and clear as it could be. I can hear my little feathered friends chirping happy songs, they’re everywhere, making the red leaves fall… While contemplating my world outside the window, I’m listening to the pure, haunting tone of the Native American flute and lush harmonies of strings of classic Nakai melodies from one of my favorite CDs. It feels so peaceful, and I’m basking in the serene atmosphere surrounding me...

Until... All of the sudden a unanimous flapping of wings... A new air, frigid and unfriendly, sweeps the garden floor… I looked around trying to find the source of the sudden tremor…. until I saw her…

“Morning”—again in my garden, again frightening my birds away…. She swiftly moves, creeping, like a reptor, so as to hide from her victims, and waits patiently amidst the silent butterfly bushes….

“Morning”, is how I’ve named my new kitty friend. As I don’t know her real name, or who she belongs to or where she comes from, she is mine... and that’s the name I’ve chosen for her…. She seems to love my garden. I’ve seen her on many occasion basking in the sunshine among the faded roses, laughing at the birds, under the bushes, or like today, suddenly emerging… from nowhere.