At first you only saw her now and then when she slipped past your window, gently and silently. It was a coincidence, pure coincidence, that you discovered it, but as soon as it happened, you became more attentive, paying attention to every slight rustling, to the smallest shadow when you looked out the window. She was beautiful and you enjoyed seeing her from a distance. On the days you saw her, you were happy and balanced. This one small moment was enough to turn your day into a special one, lifted out of the tough mass of all the other days. She stepped into your field of vision, through it and out again. It was a good day.
One day she stopped, turned her slender neck in your direction and looked at you, just a moment, but you were enchanted. It was now as if you were waiting for her. You went to the window more often than usual, hoping to see her, but she also came by more often. The first time she stopped only for a moment, it was longer now. Your eyes met and lingered on one another. You could never say how much time had passed, never say whether it was just a moment, a heartbeat, or an hour. Time stood still. You had the opportunity to observe them more closely. Their fur was white, with brown and black spots. “A lucky cat”, you thought to yourself, “How does she feel? How does it smell?” So, it came about that you opened the window once. The sound startled her and she jumped nimbly away. On that day you were depressed because you feared you had scared her away forever, and she really didn’t show up for two days. You thought she would never come back, but on the third day she was back. She was sitting on the lawn in front of your window and licking her paws. You would have loved to jump out the window, straight towards her, your joy was so great, but you didn’t want to lose it again. So, you leave it to watch her, but the next day the window was already open when she came so that she couldn’t be frightened by the noise. And really, she came closer to your window. If you had stretched out your hand, you could have touched it, it had come so close. But you were careful if you didn’t want to give her any cause to be frightened. It came closer and closer, and you were openness and acceptance. You became more familiar. You gave her the hope that she would be in good hands with you. You would strengthen and protect her and make her feel at home. With her nose she stroked the back of your hand, coquettishly brushed your arm, and you read the hand very gently sliding over her soft fur. Moments of quiet familiarity, of lively togetherness, and understanding grew. Getting to know each other means learning about yourself and the other, revealing and inputting. You invited her to come to you. No longer just sitting on the windowsill, it invites you to step into your life and fulfill it. You wanted it, really wanted it, and at last she started to leap from the window sill into the room, but from one moment to the next the sheer rage seized you. How could it be that she prostituted herself like that, abandoning herself to you. She was no better than all the other sluts you had met, so you slammed the window while her paw was stuck between the window and the window frame and crushed and the pane that hit the nose was smeared with blood. But she didn’t go. You had familiarized yourself with them. Despite the pain you caused her, she still believed. She sat whimpering on the window sill, hurt, humiliated, yet longing for you.
You sat inside and spurned her and her pain, you got angry that she was there and moaned. You opened the window again, but not to bring her to you, but to push her away for good, away from your window sill, out into the cold. And you made them familiar to you.