A warm feline

During the last run of what I fervently hope are the final hot days of the year -- Hades can still be hit with a humidex into October -- I was taking the Accent Snob for his midday sniff-and-pull around the block. Suddenly, up ahead, I spotted a cat sprawled in a shady patch of sidewalk, directly in our path.

It saw the Accent Snob, and its ears twitched. The Accent Snob paused uncertainly.

"Nope," I told him. "I'm sticking to the shade. Let's go."

As we approached, the cat rolled sinuously to its feet and glided toward the dog, who halted again. The cat squinted and sniffed the Accent Snob's nose, then stroked its back against the AS's front legs before dropping to the pavement and rolling languorously onto its back.

"Whaddaya know?" I remarked to my bewildered pet. "A cat who likes dogs!"

Fair enough. The Accent Snob's past is a mystery to us, but we suspect he's lived with cats, and to tell you the truth, is rather catlike himself, although we'd never say that to his face.

That may have been the last day I will hear the cicadas this year. In the evenings, the crickets chirp on, although they'll probably be silent by Hallowe'en.