I spent some time the other day observing my own feline companion, Magick, and he never ceases to amaze me. Black as night, with a long tail that’s kinked at the end, he moves with such stealth that I don’t even know he’s there until he wants me to. Then he sits there, staring up at me with his glittering yellow eyes, and he says a single word — “Meow.”
Like all cats, he expects me to know the meaning of this single sound immediately, for he turns and walks about, never glancing back. At this point, I am supposed to immediately comply with his demand. The problem is, I don’t know what that demand is.