just follow the cat

Part 1 - completely no

Baltimore, Maryland

the day after Weat Quisling's funeral

It was 3am. Or maybe it was 4. Whatever time it was, it was too late to be up from the night before and equally too early to be up for the day ahead. When Starling opened the front door of the building where he lived, he walked toward the small park a few steps away. Because he wasn't looking, he almost sat right on top of a man dressed in a heavy wool suit. It was a reasonable mistake. After all, the man was sleeping on Starling's bench. Or what Starling thought of as his bench since almost no one else ever sat there at 3am. And not even at 4.

For a few seconds, Starling hovered over the bench on his tiptoes hoping that he wouldn't tip over and land on the sleeping man. When he was finally certain that he wouldn't fall, he slowly arched his back until he heard the familiar cracking sound of the joints in his back popping into position – back to where God had aligned them on the day he was born.

"Now, what am I going to do?" he said to himself.

Although there were several other park benches nearby, this was his bench and rightfully he should have been the one sitting there instead this interloper. "But," Starling mumbled, "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."

The cats, all six of them, were familiar with this routine. Whenever they saw Starling sitting on the bench, they would wonder why he left the house only to stay so nearby. But that was only a passing thought. Mostly they were relieved that all the shouting had stopped.

Finally, Starling tapped on the man's shoulder and said, "She's sleeping now."

Samuel Greenock Wilson, only half asleep, opened his eyes. But that didn't lessen the degree to which he was startled. He sat up quickly and shifted his heavy woolen suit so the shirt and zipper were more or less back where God had intended them to be on the morning after a funeral.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I've just been walking all night and thought I'd rest here for a few minutes."

"She's sleeping now," Starling said again. "You can stay if you want, but I think you should move along."

Sam paused for a moment and realized that no response was the best response. Sam took in a deep breath, blew it out, nodded at Starling, and then began walking again. For the next five years, he would keep walking, running, hopping, skipping, and (once or twice) even dancing. He would keep moving until he stopped.

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