On the pursuit of milk

Baby Joaquin loves milk. He indulges easily 12 times a day. He slurps, he gulps, he sucks. He also spits a lot of milk back up. The milk goes into his belly. The milk goes into the deep folds in his neck where the sun never shines. I try to wipe it out regularly but nevertheless he makes cheese under his chin. The milk also encrusts daily on his clothes and mine. He's a baby.

Last Tuesday night, walking the six blocks home from our BART station after a visit to the Jupiter Brewery, I notice a cat behind me. When I stop and turn around, the cat stops and ducks quickly under a juniper bush. I walk again and the cat walks again. A few steps later I stop and turn and the cat hides behind a car tire. It appears when I walk, the cat walks and when I stop the cat stops too. Weird, I think. After a block the cat drops from our trail.

Another block towards home and suddenly I notice another cat is following us. A different cat. Again the creeping and hiding. This calico cat stalks us to our doorstep. Should I be frightened? These cats must smell the milk on the baby and me. And are in hot pursuit. Another creature that loves milk.

Suddenly the half heard fishwives-tales of cats sucking the breath of newborns come to mind. In the dark misty night these superstitious tales seem just possible.