My kitty is cool

From Alfred’s journal

The gray cat from the blue house sat under the feeder all afternoon and did not once look up. I spent years assuming that was a strategy, that she was waiting me out, and I kept to the high branches on her account. Today Switch walked the length of the fence rail within a tail of her and she yawned. Nothing happened. I wrote in the margin, in a hand I am not proud of, my kitty is cool, which is not a thing a bird should ever have cause to put down. She is not mine and I am not sure she is calm so much as uninterested, which from up here looks identical.