5)The following is a very short story written while in Basata, in the tradition of the cat stories I used to write a long time ago...
The cat sat under the table, watching the people around her do.
Smells filled her nose, of people making warm foods in metal pots. She liked these people, these generous, giving human beings, who would, when asked, throw her food from the tabletop, which she would take to her children next door.
She remembered catching a dragonfly that day, a small flying thing which had proved entertaining. When caught, it had been tasty, too.
She watched the people, she could never tell which was which because they all smelled of salt, most of the time, or covered their scent with other scents that weren't theirs the rest of the time.
She worried about her children, a good mother. The human cubs loved playing with them. She watched them throwing her litter around (it would make them tougher). Sometimes she worried that they would get used to all that attention and forgot the hunt. On the other hand, the scraps she was fed were good. It might not be a bad idea for the children to learn how to ingratiate themselves to the humans as soon as possible, so that, as long as they decided to remain here, their survival and dinner might be assured.
Someone had thrown her a morsel of that oily, artificial fish the humans liked so much that day. She didn't like it, the fresh fish from the kitchen was better. But she took it to her kids anyway, who liked it. It wouldn't harm them, she knew that.
She had tasted many things in her time, she knew what she thought good and what she liked. Greens, which did not grow around here, she did like, especially when it was salty, like the fish the humans sometimes caught. She knew it was good for her fur, too, so vanity made her like it even more.
She sat and watched as the day went by. She would sometimes go to feed her kids. She got scraps, and had walks around her territory. She made many new friends that day.
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