New York Nights

New York feels like someone turned the volume of the world to maximum and then forgot where the button is. There is light when it should be dark, noise when it should be quiet and the smell of food almost all the time. As a black cat with refined tastes, I was suspicious. Then I started to enjoy myself.

First Impressions

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Warm pavement, car exhaust, roasted nuts, something sweet from a cart I was not allowed to investigate. My humans called it energy. I called it a very busy buffet that nobody had invited me to.

The second thing I noticed was that everything is taller than it needs to be. Buildings reach so high that the sky has to squeeze between them. From my carrier I watched the tops of taxis, fragments of sky and a lot of shoes. New York clearly likes to loom.

Home Base

Our apartment sat halfway up a stack of other apartments. Not too high, not too low, just right for a cat who likes to spy without being obvious.

Inside there was a rug that caught the afternoon light, a coffee table that I definitely was not supposed to sit on and a row of windows that became my control centre. From there I could monitor:

• People carrying very serious coffees

• Cyclists trying not to hit anyone

• Steam drifting out of the street as if the ground was thinking too hard

At night the windows reflected a sleek black cat with golden eyes. I stared at her. She stared back. Eventually we agreed that we both looked excellent.

City at Ground Level

On one evening reconnaissance mission my humans carried me in a sling as they wandered the streets below. The pavement was a patchwork of gum, puddles and mysterious stains. The air vibrated with sirens and snippets of conversation.

We passed a corner shop that smelled like frying oil and oranges. A cat I did not know sat in the doorway and gave me a slow, unimpressed blink. I respected that.

Farther along, I noticed a small dog with a red collar walking beside a tall human. The dog turned its head neatly, looked in my direction as if it knew exactly where I was, then kept going. New York is crowded, so I decided it was a coincidence. I made a note of it anyway.

Below the Streets

The humans insisted on taking me on the subway once. I do not recommend this for beginners.

The train arrived with a rush of air that smelled like metal and dust. Inside, the floor shook, the lights flickered slightly and the humans wrapped an arm around my carrier as if I might attempt escape. I stayed still and listened.

There were announcements nobody seemed to hear, a musician playing somewhere out of sight and a faint rustle of snack packets. At one stop, as the doors opened, I caught a glimpse of the platform. There, for one brief moment, was a big brindle dog with a red collar, sitting calmly beside a different human. The doors closed. The train moved. It was probably not the same dog. Probably.

Up High

New York is not only about streets. It is also about roofs.

One evening my humans took me to the rooftop of the building. The city stretched out in every direction, a grid of windows and lights. The noise from below softened into a constant murmur, like a giant sleeping with one eye open.

The wind lifted my fur. I narrowed my eyes at the blinking lights of distant towers. From that height even the taxis looked small. For a moment I understood why humans like this place. It feels important, even when you are doing nothing except existing and trying not to blow away.

Eating in the City

New York humans seem to eat constantly. They came back to the apartment with pizza slices as long as my body, round bagels that smelled like joy and boxes of noodles that steamed when opened.

Officially my diet did not change. Same bowl. Same dry food.

Unofficially the following occurred:

• A thin strip of pepperoni slid off a slice and onto the plate. I intercepted.

• A flake of everything bagel fell to the floor. I investigated thoroughly.

• A noodle was waved in front of my face by a human who said I could “just sniff it.” That human underestimated me.

I concluded that New York cuisine is excellent as long as you have quick paws and good timing.

Humans in New York

My humans moved differently in this city. They walked faster, talked faster and came home with pink cheeks and tired feet. They spread maps on the table, circled locations on their phones and argued about which direction was uptown.

At night they ended up in a heap on the couch, full of food and stories. This was my favourite part. I would climb onto whichever lap was warmest and pretend to fall asleep while they described everything they had seen. I was listening. A good investigator always gathers details.

Final Thoughts

New York is not gentle. It is bright when your eyes want dark and loud when your ears want quiet. It is also full of corners, rooftops, late night light and endless things to watch from a safe place behind glass.

For a black cat, it offers excellent opportunities for observation, a respectable amount of stolen food and plenty of chances to act like you own a small part of a very big city.

Will I return? Yes. There are still pigeons to count, windowsills to test and one particular dog I am almost certain I did not see twice.

P.S.: I saw the most fabulous red scarf on this gorgeous girl.

P. P. S.: pspspspspsppspspspsppspsps