On many nights, just after the stroke of midnight, they appear just outside my gate. They materialize seemingly out of nowhere – like apparitions out of the dark. And their appearances have become so common that I have taken to giving them names.
The dark, brooding figure, I named Dark Night. The one in the white coat, seeming to shimmer under the orange streetlight, I named Princess. And sometimes they will be joined by a smaller, more jumpy third (their child perhaps?) which I named Ginger.
And so on many nights I would be near those figures, separated only by a gate. I would sit, to lower my profile, to not appear threatening. And I would talk to them.
Dark Night, being the boldest of the three would sit the stillest. It stares transfixed on the strange person talking to it, with eyes as dark as its coat. Gazing from the blackness.
Princess would pace around, cat-like, nervous. Seemingly trying to convince Dark Night to leave this strange man across the gate. Who was he anyway?
Ginger would tolerate my presence only a while, before dashing across the street in an eerie blur.
And still I would sit. And talk to them.
And then I realise that I have been cooped up in the house for too dang long. That I have begun to talk to three random stray cats =.=”