The cat liked to roam the newest neighborhood of the city. In a mere three years, city planning had transformed the ghettoized slums into a high-end luxurious community with spotless streets. The muddy trails were covered by concrete, and wild daisies were replaced by well-trimmed hedges. Even cigarette butts previously callously littered vanished without a trace. Only the faint stench of public restrooms lingered, escaping through the ground sewer and into the cat’s nose as he walked by the edge of the street.

The cat stopped by a maple tree and climbed up in an instant. He climbed up and down a couple of times before settling down and observing his surroundings. Across the fence, a child and a dog played fetch in the yard. The cat stared coolly at the yelping dog and the screaming child, occasionally glancing away and flicking his tail.

“Wolf, go get this one!” The child yelled and threw with all his might. The dog tried to snatch it with its jaws in midair but missed. The ball landed on a soft tuft of grass, rolled through the bottom opening of the fence, and hit the trunk of the tree with a thud.

The dog lowered his body but was too big to crawl through, his paw reached from beneath the fence and waved frantically but was still a foot away from the ball. The cat leaped down from the tree, half-amused at the sight of the dog’s frustration and half-annoyed at being disturbed.

The cat sat in front of the dog, his tail curled gracefully around his body, hiding his front paws. He could see the dog more clearly now. The dog was a husky with clear white, almost silver fur.

For a moment, the stark contrast between the dog’s clumsiness and the cat’s elegance created an almost comical silence. The dog pulled himself up into a sitting position and greeted the cat: “My name is Wolf. Pussycat, what is yours?”

“I never had a name and I never will,” the cat responded. He lifted one paw and licked it, “How can you be proud of a name given to you, least of all by a human? We know who we are–-oh my mistake, I know who I am.”

“I am a descendant of the mighty wolf! I am proud of my heritage!” Wolf said, wagging his tail a little, “Kind pussycat, can you help me get my ball?”

“Your ball? Is it this one?” The cat made his way towards the foot of the tree and placed a paw on it.

“Yes! That is exactly the one! There is a heart-shaped pink design and ‘W’ on it. ‘W’ stands for Wolf! That’s my name! My master gave it to me. He always plays it with me! Have you played fetch before? It is my favorite game! It’s so much fun!” The dog is standing now, his tongue sticking out in excitement.

“Indeed,” the cat gave the ball a gentle nudge and pounced onto it as it rolled.

“Good pussycat, please give it back quickly! My master is calling me. He loves this ball so much. He will be so disappointed if I lost it.” The dog paced on the other side of the fence.

The cat tilted his head, “I found it; it is mine now.”

“It is mine! The ball is mine! It has my name on it! ” The dog barked.

“Perhaps it did belong to you on your side of the fence, but this is my side. You will have to play by my rules.” The cat took a step back to escape the dog’s spewing saliva, “Tell me a story.”

“A story? Why?” The dog asked, “Are you lonely out there? I would love to talk to you someday! But my master needs me now! I can come back another day! I promise you!”

“If you don’t tell me a story, you will never see this ball again.”

“Alright!” The dog whimpered a little as he sat down, “What story?”

“A story about a friend.”

“I will tell you about my best friend! He’s very special because he is not a dog like me! Normally my friends are dogs because, well you know, dogs stick together!” The dog seemed excited now.

“How is this friend special?” The cat took a step forward.

“Well, my friend lives in water! His body is orange color, and sometimes golden under the sunlight! I’m always enamored by his graceful movements through the water! I don’t think I can ever swim as well.”

“Your friend certainly sounds... delightful.” The cat licked his upper lip.

“He is such a delight! I always feel like I can tell him all my secrets and I sometimes do! I ask him for advice too! He swims upwards if he agrees with me and swims downwards if he disagrees! He looks so wise with such huge bulging eyes on his tiny body! One day, he stopped moving and was lying upside down in the water! I think he must be tired from all the swimming! My master told the young master and me that my friend will travel to a very distant land and can come back after a long while! I really hope that he will have a fun journey!” The dog stood up again, wagging his tail.

“That was your best friend?” The cat asked.

“Yes of course! All my other friends are better speakers than listeners! My best friend loves to listen to me talk!” The dog replied proudly. “I told a story! Now can I have my ball back?”

“Who said anything about giving it to you?” The cat pawed the ball.

“But you promised--”

“I only said I wouldn’t give it to you if you didn’t tell the story.” The cat seemed more amused now. “I don’t think I ever mentioned anything about giving you the ball if you did tell a story?”

“You street cats! You have no sense of honor and pride! All you know are dirty tricks! You have no manners!” The dog stuck his mouth and nose between the railings of the fence. He said through gritted teeth, “If this fence weren’t in my way, I would shred you to pieces!”

The cat paid no attention to the dog’s anger as if remarks from a mere dog didn’t carry enough weight to offend him. He said in a matter-of-fact tone, “But this fence is here, built by your precious masters, too.”

“Don’t you dare speak ill of my masters!” The dog snarled.

“Or what?” The cat spat. He swung his front paw at the dog, leaving scratch marks on the side of his mouth. The dog yelped in pain and drew back into his side of the fence.

“I love my masters and they love me!”

“You think that’s love? How pathetic.”

“They play with me!”

“They judge you based on fur color.”

“I’m their best friend!”

“And yet they take away your newborn pups.”

“You don’t even have a name! You don’t know what loyalty is and you never will, never!”

The cat held the ball in his mouth and climbed up the tree.

“Come back here! Give me my ball back! Thief! Liar! You promised you would give me my ball! Thief! Liar!” The dog barked as he jumped up to reach the tip of a tree branch that extended towards this side of the branch.

The cat walked towards him, and the dog barked.

Thud. The ball landed on the ground and bounced. The dog immediately caught it with his mouth and sprinted away, not looking back.

“Dogs.” The cat scoffed and flicked his tail. He squinted his eyes at Wolf, who pounced away wagging his tail. Wolf raised his head proudly as he presented the ball to his master.

The cat muttered, “You are loyal to your masters but we, cats, are loyal to something else.”

The cat yawned and licked his front paw once. The dappled shadow of autumn leaves on his pelt swayed slightly against the gentle breeze.

Sunny afternoons are the best time for naps, and this tree is always the perfect spot. The cat twitched his ear and closed his eyes, accompanied by the gentle melody of jazz music and the rich scent of freshly grounded coffee beans from the local cafe. Feeling the warmth of sunlight on his dark fur, he dozed off.

In his dream, he was a starving kitten freezing to death on a winter night. He never knew where he came from, and he would never care. Abandonment was never an unusual sight, especially in this part of town. Puppies, ferrets, gerbils, guinea pigs, and, of course, kittens. He had seen how countless other kittens cleaned their fur and picked out a human in the crowd, stopped at their feet, meowed in the most pitiful way, and were instantly taken away to be worshipped and adored. But no one would hold him with his scrawny figure, dispatched fur, and scarred face.

There was also a puppy in his dream. A little husky with silver, white fur. Like him, the puppy didn’t have a name. The puppy dug out a piece of half bitten chicken meat from the garbage bin in the back alley and nudged it towards him. The puppy had been his friend and his accomplice on their various expeditions for food. Just as he was about to give in to the long snowy night, the puppy said, “Wait for me by the maple tree, I’m a descendent of the mighty wolf. I can find more food.”

He waited, in a small cardboard box by the foot of the tree, with clenched teeth and tense muscles. He waited, while the last leaf hung indignantly on the maple tree. He waited, with the glistening moon and twinkling stars. The puppy had said to him before that dogs always remember and that dogs carry out their promises so he waited.

At last, darkness subsided like the tide and the first ray of morning shone through the crevice of his cardboard box. Soon, humans crowded the street and some pitifully threw leftover food into his cardboard box.

But the puppy was nowhere to be seen.

The cat opened his eyes as the flame-colored clouds darkened and day blinked into night. He stood upon the tree branch and stretched, his body arching against the silhouette of the moon. He took a long stare at the yard on the other side of the fence. There was light in the house across the yard and he could almost hear faint barking mixed with waves of laughter from children. The yard that looked cramped during the day became a vast sea of darkness.

Everything was on the right side of the fence. He leaped off the tree and soon disappeared into places where the faint buzzing of street lights could not follow. He, too, never looked back.

Gazing up at the murky night sky, the cat meowed faintly, as if counting stars.