There are a few ghost cats on my block, ownerless, nocturnal, seen only by streetlamp and moon. They disappear whenever I bend and make the internationally recognized Call to the Unknown Cat. Rabbits also run away, but far less aesthetically. (An odd tie between the two campuses: the immense population of frightened little bunnies. Enough rabbits to store one in every dorm room and still have overstock.) Rabbits lock their muscles and stare into the darkness, sniffing, and then bounce stiffly in the other direction. Cats look up quickly, as though an action hero hearing an approaching train, incline their front, approach a bit, contemplate, quiver slighltly for a few seconds, then turn and flee in a fluidly choreographed move, not ceding territory but simply looking for something more awesome to do. They look back every few seconds as if expecting you to come see, and then the light runs out and they are gone.

I miss you, cats of the world. I would like to hang out with you, but you will not let me. Why do you tease me with your insensible image?