Miss Kitty is not my kitty. She belongs to one of our neighbours, I suspect: she’s incredibly friendly and in good health. But we’re friends even so. We first met a year ago when my mom and I were putting up the bird feeder in our garden — all of a sudden this beautiful, grey and silver tabby was bounding across the garden, asking what we were doing, and could she have pets, please? Since then I’d see her a couple of times a week while working in the garden; less during winter of course. But as I mentioned in an earlier post, the first time I was out in my garden this spring she was there investigating my handiwork. She’s grown into her ears since last year, but still she has big beautiful golden eyes. I started calling her ‘Miss Kitty’ to avoid giving her a name, but then that of course became a name in itself. Something about her colouring and eyes makes me think of Takver from The Dispossessed, but that isn’t a very good name for a friendly miss kitty. I’m very glad that Miss Kitty has chosen to visit my garden from time to time — this will suffice until someday, someday, I can have a cat of my own again. If Ursula K Le Guin can say that a cat is the soul of a house, then pretty Miss Kitty can be the soul of my garden.