My kitty makes me happy

From Alfred’s journal

The gray cat from the blue house sat under my maple most of the afternoon, doing nothing at all to me. Years I spent certain that cat meant danger and nothing else, that the whole of my opinion on cats was settled before I hatched. But the woman came out at four and said, to nobody, my kitty makes me happy, and bent down and put her face in his fur, and he allowed it. I have never been held like that and would not care for it. Still, I stayed on the branch longer than I needed to, watching an animal I am supposed to fear be the best thing in somebody's day. Switch says I am going soft. Switch has never been picked up by anyone who meant him well.