My cat led me out for a sunset walk. I followed her round the wildflower verges of the wheat field. She, slinking through the jungle of ragwort and thistle, me the giant gliding above, unwittingly wrecking the homes of tiny insects. At the far edge of the field she stopped and sat, in front of a blackbird with its throat torn out. Eviscerated. She looked at me. I wasn't exactly sure what it was all about. I crouched down and touched its little head, and touched hers too. Blue black feathers. Blue black fur. Two of us breathing, one of us not. After a while, my cat simply stood again and threaded her way silently back home. I followed in quiet stillness. Reverence. The sun was just descending in its usual glorious way.
