A gang of youth lately swarms the city blocks, brandishing clipboards and matching windbreakers and engaging passersby with appeals to some charity for children. "Children International", or something. Maybe "Won't Somebody Please Think Of The Children."

Anyway, I've avoided them for the most part, except for two encounters. In the first I told the hyperactive young woman that I didn't engage in charitable giving on the street and she passed me by. Later, in the evening, I said the same to the stoner boy engaged in this scam.

"Okay," he said cheerfully. A moment later, after he processed the information, "That's harsh."

I eyeballed him. "I give plenty in charitable donations. I don't need to be pressured by some stranger on the street about it." That got him to leave me alone.

There should be a universal hand signal that means "I already said no, so fuck off".

***

That night as I got into bed, Pandora, the calico cat, climbed up on my chest, as is her wont. So my usual bedtime routine starts with a loudly purring (high-pitched to the point of squeakery) cat within nanometers of my mouth and nose. Occasional meetings of cold cat nose and my lips occur. The rolling over and showing of the cat belly is also a consequence of Pandora's unabashed hussiness during these moments.

This time I didn't pet her for the first few minutes and suddenly she reached out a paw and patted the side of my jaw. So I pet her, then stopped, and she repeated the gesture, and then again. I don't believe this is the first time she's done this. Whether it's an intelligent and considered act of communication on her part, I cannot say. But I'll give her the benefit of the doubt.