Next to my small apartment building is a small set of stairs and an even smaller public garden. I have learned in the short time that small is called “Hong Kong Cozy” so I suppose this is a very cozy part of town.
There’s always a cat or two wandering around and as a cat person, I bent down and tried to get the attention of one of the strays passing by for a photo op.
“This alley,” A woman carrying a garbage bag said behind me “is cat alley. There is a shelter right here.”
“Oh!” The cat trotted up to her and said it’s customary hellos by crying and wrapping itself around her legs.
“This is Gigi, she comes when she’s called.” She explained walking with the cat twining in and out of her step.
“Gigi.” Sure enough, I had a new friend. The cat came over as it was called and began to mark me as hers.
Every day, on my way to the MTR, or the bougie market that was one street down, I’d call for Gigi.
And she would arrive, sometimes, with friends.