Cricket

There's a small black cat named Cricket who watches for me in the mornings as I walk to work. He sits on the porch of the big brick house on the corner by the mimosa tree and catches my eye and I his and then jumps down to meet me on the sidewalk and winds his way around my ankles and peppers me with chirping meows. I kneel down to tease at the butting parts of his head and his long, whippy tail. I would if I could keep him with me, an ego boost, a reminder of the pleasure in 'oh hey, it's you!!' throughout the rest of my long walk through town.