Cathodic

He is golden in the sun, and in the night he is grey like all the others. His gaze is green, serene, and yet alert. He draws amber-stuff to himself; the sun's cousins dance upon his paws. If you see him in the light, he is banded gold and sunlight; if under the moon, silver and starlight.

There is quietude in his step; there is raucous abomination in his yowl. He is to us the fear that must be tamed, and never was. To say a woman is a dog is petty insult; to say she is a cat is something more.