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  • The cat sat on a concrete slab, hardly moving at all.

    He didn't cause a fuss when a giddy little girl stuck her fancy camera almost into his eye socket to the sound of "Cuuu--uu---uuuuute!". He simply turned his head to the left, and kept it there, exposing a chiseled jawline, clean, glossy fur and a portrait silhouette shaped to utter perfection.

    If felines ever had a designated charmer in the neighborhood, it was this one. He knew it.

    The silence wasn't what made the noise of him being out of the ordinary, but it was his calm. Most cats would've simply slid away from any disturbance of the peace, knowing exactly where to go for a nicer, more quaint space.

    This cat, however, wasn't interested in leaving.

    So much so, that when I approached him in a calm manner, he didn't flinch. Not even an inch.
    It felt as if he enjoyed the quieter sort of company, and that I sufficed as a member of his crew. To gaze out into the swarms of people buying red and gold trinkets and discounted keyrings and not understand why they were all acting in this way seemed natural to this cat.

    If I had a chair with a bowl of warm milk, I would've sat and said nothing to him for hours.

    It's a pleasure to be in the presence of a cat that knows where he's at.
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