“Chico, stop staring at me!” I yell at Chico, my vagabond cat, as he does his nightly staring routine. He sits on the floor of the living room and stares at me so intently that you can see the prism of his eyes. His gaze, keen and focused, does not relay any particular emotion, just a stare.
Laura Tennyson
Chico, my cat, is a vagabond. Before the pandemic he would rise early with my husband, get fed and roam the streets until early evening. He also had developed a reputation on our Marigny block as a little bit of a bully.