I remember tenderness

Today, when I went out into the back garden to hang up my wet swimming gear, a small tabby cat emerged from under the bushes, and proceeded to snuggle around my ankles, purring, and letting me crouch down to pat it, for the next ten minutes. When I tried to go to the washing line, the cat followed me, curling around my legs. When I walked to the back of the garden to check on the tomato plants, it seemed to try to herd me like a sheepdog, purring and weaving back and forth in front of my feet. It trotted at my heels as I returned towards the house, and it was with a lot of regret that I went back indoors — and if I didn't have to start work, I would have stayed. The last I saw, the cat was sitting on the edge of the deck, looking longingly towards me.

It was a moment of such softness.