There once was a kitty that lived in a window. Sometime she ate from her bowl. Sometimes she snuggled in the sun. But mostly, she lived in a window.

She'd wake in the morning. She'd bat her eyes a few times in the mirror of her water bowl. Then she'd stalk her way along the fluffy brown sofa and then leap like a jungle cat up into the window.

Down below she could see the boats. Catalina Island always had tourists coming and going in those days. Sometimes she'd pat her paws at a fly bugging to get inside her window. Sometimes she'd yawn with a long wide open, see-all-her-teeth yawn. But mostly, she'd just preen herself. She'd fluff up her gray coat of fur and lick her snow-white paws.

Sometimes she'd fall asleep. In the window. The sea breeze would gently waft through her wispy whiskers. Of course she was a dreamer. Always dreamed in color. Chasing mice. Purring on her Master's chest. Dreams of her great, great grandmother, a real jungle cat. And always a dream of her Master Michael, fishing on a long wooden dock. Fishing before even the sun came up.

Smells of fish. Smells of worms. Musty smells. Good smells. Smells that would make a kitty smile. Smile even while she slept. A kitty that lived on an island. A kitty that lived in a window.