I often wonder about my place in the world. I can count on one paw the number of people who actually know what it is like to scratch my tiny head or stroke my orange fur. Despite my misgivings, I try to tolerate most humans. Especially the ones that give me treats. To them I respond in kind. But to the others, the ones out there beyond the realm of               certainty….do they wonder about me when they glance up from the street and find me         sitting on the window sill? Even with the most hopeful of thoughts, I can only answer with a   “maybe”. There is no conviction in that response. Nothing is for sure, people have their own lives to live–but for the eyes that linger for more than a fraction of a second…I have to  believe that they are at least considering me. With what, I do not know. Depending on how they view themselves, it could be with contempt or pitty, happiness or gratitude.     Thankfully, my queries do not mandate  an answer. Just thinking about where I stand means that despite  my limitations, somehow I am very real. And as long as I am noticed, my place in the  world will always be secure.