A bond between cats is a powerful thing. My boys, Choco and Twee, are truly bonded, the way Willi was bonded to me. They share everything, from my bed to catnip toys; they are a delightful pair. Twee asserts himself with me more now, demanding my attention and Choco can stand to be in a room without Twee, now, but nonetheless, they are best friends.

I have been getting home really late (for a work night) most nights over the past week. It's installation time at the Gallery, you see. Sometimes I remember to turn on my porch light, but mainly I forget. I guess my head is still somewhere in July when it would still be light out. Anyway, tonight I got home around 11:30pm and it was pitch black in my apartment and outside. I unlocked my door after several missed attempts; on the other side, my cats were whipped up into a frenzy of meowing, waiting for me to come in and feed them. When I open my door, I tend to thrust in my foot, or my backpack to keep the beasts at bay - I'm not keen on them dashing out. The first time they escaped, it was a bit nerve-wracking to get little Choco back in. At night, I don't usually have to worry about them escaping, they're more interested in dinner.

Tonight, however, Choco, who was completely whipped up, took it upon himself to throw himself over my foot and out into the wilds. Crap, I thought, but instead of panicking, I went inside, leaving the door open and calling to Twee for his supper. I thought that might entice Choco back in. I realised after putting kibble in both of their plates, Choco had not returned, so I flipped on my outside light and went out to see about retrieving him, shutting Twee in. I called and immediately heard Choco's little voice in answer, excited and not too far away. I called again, he answered, and I followed him, but he was in the process of moving up into the front of the house.

Around the side, where my living room window is, the outdoor light came on (motion sensor) and I got a clear view of Choco who was hesitating now. I stood there, calling him, trying not to sound nervous or upset because he's very sensitive to that. The thing is, Choco doesn't really come when he's called. Despite sleeping with me, lying on my lap, and being fairly lovey with me now, he hasn't gotten to that level of domesticity with me.

Then I heard another little cat voice, at first thinking it belonged to one of the neighbour's cats, until I realised it was beside me. There was big Twee in the living room window, which was open, calling. He could see Choco climbing around the parked cars. Twee got very insistent, using the same tone he saves when calling Choco for a game, or just trying to figure out where in the apartment Choco might be. Immediately, Choco stopped and answered Twee. Twee called him again, face pressed right to the screen of the window. Choco took two steps toward me, Twee called once more and Choco bolted for the door.

When I let him in, Twee backed up to let Choco through. Choco was all excited, his tail was all frizzy, and he was miewing kitten-like with excitement at Twee. I assumed that Twee had eaten the dinner I had put down for them, and wanting to reward Choco for coming back in, I went to their food tin. What I discovered was that Twee, who, as Gareth says, has the heart and soul of a wumpus, had actually abandoned his dinner to come to the window and call out in concern. He knew something was wrong and that Choco was missing. I couldn't stop myself from picking Twee up and hugging him hard - something he usually isn't keen on. This time, as though he understood, he just let me, purring the whole time.

Now, Choco is lying pressed up against me in bed as I type, exhausted from his wilderness adventure and feeling, I think, a bit vulnerable. Suits me just fine; better him here then out there.

In other animal related news, tonight I saw the biggest fox I have ever seen. Foxes are not usually large animals. This was an enormous fox. I couldn't believe it for what it was, at first. I found it because en route to the private studio/gallery I about to visit, I met a Subaru pulled up on the highway shoulder with its four-way flashers on. I thought it was a problem, at first, until I saw the guy sitting in the window, elbows on the roof of the car, camera in hand. Naturally, I pulled over, too.

I honestly didn't know what I was looking at. Surely, I thought, that cannot be a fox. It was huge. It was the size of a wolf. But it was red. Bear? said my brain that still couldn't believe it was a fox. No, said my eyes, looking at its slender features, long nose and black points, that is a fox. I took a couple of truly terrible photos of it and then headed back into the car and up to the gallery.

People refused to believe me when I said it was a fox, but huge. "No, it was a wolf," said one in a tone that suggested I knew nothing because I was from a big city. I looked her straight in the eye and said, "It was alone. Wolves are not solitary. And it was red. Wolves are also not red." Not sure whether they should believe me, I decided to leave it alone until I spoke with the studio owner.

"Oh you saw him, did you? Isn't he gorgeous?" "So I'm not crazy and it is an enormous fox?" "Of course - he's often around here, did you see him on the road?" "Yup, just watching the cars go by from the edge of the woods. But he's so big. He's at least twice the size of a normal fox." "Yes, he's pretty amazing."

Vindicated ! I know what a damn fox looks like. Wolf, my ass.