My Dearest Puss

   My Dearest,
   I’m sorry I left so quickly yesterday. I can’t stand bottles. You seemed not to like my scars. Bottles are to blame for them. So, please, whatever you think about me, leave the scars out. They’re not my fault. At least most of them. I admit, I fight from time to time. But what could I do anyway? I’m living in the streets. It’s a tough life you can hardly imagine.
   So, please, take my apologies. And take this fish with them. It’s fresh, as fresh as you can wish, if you find it here in time. And you will, because I know you go to this wall every night. In my mind I can see you sitting on the top of it, your blue silhouette against the blue sky. Watch carefully, it’s blue too. And you can‘t deny it. As well as I can‘t deny you’re the most beautiful Puss I‘ve ever met. Here you are. I wrote it. It’s easier than telling you, because everytime I tried to, you started speaking in your stiff, dismissive voice, about something so irrelevant like me being a second-class street tomcat. Yes, it’s irrelevant. I told you the first time and that could suffice. We both know it, so there isn’t anything more to talk about.
   Keep going to this wall. Keep talking to stars and keep keeping their answers for yourself. But everytime you do it, expect me sitting nearby. I’ll keep stealing sights of you and I’ll keep talking to you in my rough, down-to-earth voice. Because, without me, you might lose control over the power that holds you on the Earth and you could fly away to the outer space. That would be a pity. Your lovely family would definitely miss their Puss a lot. Who would tear their armchairs, eat their flowers and ignore the food prepared in the bowl, and gain friendly laughs and caresses for that, if not you? It wouldn’t be me, Puss. I’m too naughty for that. But still I envy you that family. Mine kicked me out after the first scratch on their cupboard.
   So go on in your path. But don’t protest if I keep going in mine.
   Yours forever
   Ginger

   One last warning. I’m a street tomcat. Don’t expect me to sit at your paws all the time, waiting until you deign to give me your royal permission. There’s plenty of other cats in the streets. Don’t idealise me.