Three summers ago one night our Burmese didn’t come home. I went out to the sidewalk, shaking a bag of cat treats, and the white cat we had then, not the smartest, most demonstrative or communicative or loving cat ever, ran to me and trotted in front of me, leading to the driveway next door, looking over at me every couple of yards to see if I was still following, ending our walk at the neighbour’s garage door.
“Marcello?” I called.
“WAH! WAH! WAH!” burst from inside the garage.
I am convinced the white cat was miming “oh, you want to know where jerkface is? Follow me.” Because she never did that before or after. I wonder now if Jerkface/Marcello communicated to her without sniffing body parts ‘geez, I’m in a spot. I hope the White Devil comes and tells our staff of giants to come rescue me.’