He moved from one shed roof to another.
He was stealthy, like a thief, but his intentions were strictly benevolent.
He acted like a frightened dog.
How could I possibly know?
I'd never encountered this breed before.
His fur was long and ruffled; his tail unruly.
Green eyes pierced me with their sharpness.
The hardest task seemed to be stroking his back.
He moved to different parts
of the courtyard,
hiding under the bench, table, and chairs.
Anxious white Maine Coon.
I observed him when I left him alone.
He moved from spot to spot.
He gazed out the French doors, as if absorbing
The negative energy that had built up in my house over months.
I let him work; it seemed so natural for him.
Pure joy radiating from his snowy white fur.
His task completed, he walked away.
I've missed him ever since.
He hasn't appeared since then.
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