Grey Wisdom

I looked across the dark lawn from my porch at the silvery-green eyes peering from under my car.

"You may as well come out, I can see you. Why are you staring at me?"

Why are you outside during our time? The sleek grey cat stretched as he strolled out of the shadows. You should be sleeping.

He doesn't sleep much these days, the fatter of the pair replied as she waddled out. The one he calls Goblin told me.

"Is that any of your business? And why are you talking to my cats, anyway?" It irritates me that these nameless and nosy outsiders are prying into my life.

We inquire after you because it is in our interest. You leave food out for us, and then we don't have to chase down our own prey. We like that. But why aren't you sleeping?

"It's October, and that's a difficult month for me."

Why? The larger shadow crouched, then pounced on something small.

"October is one of the worst months of the year for my office." The first cat twisted to groom himself. "It's also the anniversary of a lot of unpleasantness: my house was burglarized twice in October, I got divorced in October, Hurricane Wilma was in October..."

Hallowe'en is in October, too.

"True, but these days the holiday only stresses me out. I set my expectations too high, the world's attitude toward the celebration has changed so much that it has lost most of its wonder for me. I end up sad."

Your people become sad during your holidays. We know this from living with single people.

The fatter cat lifted her face from whatever she'd been gnawing. This is your holiday and you cannot enjoy it. Most do not even celebrate, so you cannot share your anger. This is why you cannot sleep.

"So then tell me, O wise cats, how I can solve this situation. How can I regain some of the spirit of the holiday and bring joy back into my life?"

Their eyes vanished into blackness as they turned away from me.

"That's it? No answers? Just wander into the shadows and leave?"

Twin blurs leapt through the streetlight's circle into the shrubbery and were gone. I picked up my glass and struggled to my feet. Four o'clock, I thought, as I entered the house.

Badfoot was waiting by the door. "Hey, tell me something. In August I had a conversation with Greywhite on the porch and he didn't reply in such a direct fashion. Why's that?"

As I walked toward the bedroom, I heard him say: It's October now.