The day was cheerless, the trees void of their leaves that had fallen to the ground, and were being blown into little vortexes by a chill wind. The dreariness told the tale that winter would soon be upon us in New York City.
As I walked through Central Park on my way to meet my partner, I saw it sitting on a set of steps, a black blot of ink staring at me with a pair of golden eyes. Except for the eye color, the cat somehow made me think of that partner of mine... deep, mysterious and unreadable.
The creature took some tentative steps towards me, and its movement reminded me of the cat-like grace Illya often displayed, especially when darting across girders, or on rooftops.
I liked my partner but I wasn't keen on felines, or even dogs for that matter. I walked past the shadowy cat and it let out a loud meow, drawing my attention back to it.
"What's the matter Puss?" I asked as it rubbed against my leg, butting me with it's head.
I recalled Illya once telling me that was one of the ways a cat marked its territory through facial glands located near it's whiskers. When a cat rubbed its face on an object, it was releasing pheromones.
"Oh great, thanks you little black beast... now I have to have my pants dry cleaned," I said out loud." Scat, go away cat...go on!'
Though I tried shooing it away, the animal persisted in following me as I headed for the appointed park bench where Illya was supposed to be meeting me. The cat jumped up there looking intently in my direction as it sat, making itself comfortable, gracefully moving its tail to and fro.
There was no sign of Illya, and I stood in place, doing a slow 360 degree turn, though still not seeing him at all. But when my eyes returned to the bench, he was there. Sitting with his arm draped casually across the back of it, gracefully turning his hand to and fro, keeping time with some unheard melody. Illya was right in front of me as if he'd suddenly materialized, but now there was no sign of the cat.
"How... where...?" I blurted out in confusion.
The bleak cloud cover above opened unexpectedly and a bright beam of sunlight cascaded directly down on Illya, changing the bleakness that surrounded him, and shining a golden light on his face. Strangely a sparkle of the same hue appeared in his intense eyes, just for a split second.
"You are on time for once," His voice seemed to purr as he spoke softly.
I quirked my head to one side, thinking just for a moment..."No, no way."
Though I still had the image in the back of my mind that Illya was like a cat perhaps too much? "Hmmm?" I watched as he rose gracefully from the park bench, lifting his arms above his head in a long stretch.
"Is this not a purrrrfectly wonderful day?" He asked.
I did a double-take. "What did you just say?"
"I asked if it was not a perfectly wonderful day. Napoleon, what is wrong with you? You are looking rather oddly at me. Is there something wrong...is my fly open?"
"No, nothing's wrong." I shivered as a cold gust of wind swept a swirl of leaves dancing past us in a merry chase.
"Only you would think this was wonderful weather tovarisch, I swear you must have ice in your veins. Come on, lets go get some breakfast, we have time before our meeting with Mr. Waverly. What do you feel like having?"
"Meee-oooh, I am in the mood for some nice smoked kippers, I think." Illya answered enthusiastically.
I watched as my Russian friend suddenly yawed, not covering his mouth with his hand.
"Late night chum?" I asked as we descended the steps together.
"Yes, I did a little prowling during the early hours around the Village and found an interesting new jazz club there called the Cat's Meow... Napoleon, why are you staring at me so strangely?"