I love my cat

From Alfred’s journal

The orange cat from the yellow house sat under my maple for most of the afternoon, not hunting, just sitting with her tail going. I spent a long time being angry at that cat. Then today the woman came out and called her in and the cat did not move, and the woman said it anyway, to nobody, to the yard: I love my cat. Said it the way you say a fact you have checked twice. I have known that cat longer than she has, and all I ever knew about her was that she wanted me dead; the woman knows what she is like in the kitchen at six in the morning. Switch says the cat has never once caught anything, which is a different animal than the one I have been watching.