Hello, pretty girl, I say. What are you thinking?
She blinks. She does not answer or move at all. She just blinks and stares some more. Then, she walks away on the errands she chooses not to discuss with me.
But, after a while, she's back. She's going in the same direction again, right to left past the door. Again she stops. She looks up at me. She blinks.
So, what are you up to, little one? I ask.
She blinks at me, silent. She starts to walk away, hesitates, looks at me again. Blink. Blink.
Where's Gracie? I ask.
Lily walks away again.
Soon, she's back. Always going from right to left past the door. I never notice her going in the other direction, but I must assume she has made the return journey somehow. She is going right to left past the door again and she stops. She stares at me.
This occurs again and again as I sit, working in my office. It's always Lily, never Grace. Lily, assessing me, taking my measure, looking me over. I wonder what observations she is passing on to Grace. I'm sure they are discussing the situation, evaluating. Lily, the daring observer, Grace, hiding in the background, waiting for the information.
I hear them in the wee hours of the morning. They leap and jump around, making all sorts of noise when they think the Misty and I are asleep. They gleefully run from room to room, scrambling around a corner as they lose their footing on the wooden floors. I hope they are chasing mice, but they are probably only playing tag with each other. Bits of my asparagus fern are littered on the carpet of the living room in the morning.
Once, when I speak, I almost think Lily is going to come over for a scratch behind the ears, but no. She is still too nervous. She turns away and walks under the dining room table.
Labels: shy cats