At about six months’ of age, Zorak sat outside my window and mewed pitifully until I brought him in. He was so frightened he ran straight up one of those old-fashioned 4′ windows. Nobody believed a cat could do that until a small crowd saw him do it the second time. Zorak, who was sweet and humble and crooked on the ground was a flyer. We came to expect to see him flying around the apartment near the ceiling and above our heads.

Zorak was a scaredy cat and he loved only me. He frequently tapped me on the left shoulder blade to shyly ask to have the spot under his chin scratched. He loved nothing better than to sit on my lap and have a chat. He is buried with his favorite toy – a plastic lizard – in my sister’s backyard under a yard pinwheel. Had I realized he was in trouble well before I did or if I’d just been a little smarter he might still be alive today. I miss him terribly.