Waiting for an Answer
I have fallen into the habit of talking to the neighborhood cats. Unfortunately, several of them appear to take a dim view of my efforts and look at me as if I’m the one who is somewhat unbalanced. Well, say what you will about my apartment, but I don’t live in a dumpster.
Others, however, are more diffident, more reflective, and are clearly trying to think of the correct response; It is just that I lack the patience to stand around and wait for their replies, no matter how well considered.
It’s not that they never respond, but that when they eventually do, my own limited language skills impede understanding. The cat in the picture, for example, was unable to tell me his name. But I think he was signaling that he’s a kind of feline Superman. Or that I am.