The fawn, curious and shy:
— Hello, little cat. You walk so quietly that I almost didn't hear you coming... Who are you?

The cat, with a mysterious air:
— I am Cat, traveler of silence and rooftops. And you, frail inhabitant of the woods, who are you?

The fawn, lowering its eyes:
— They call me Fawn. I was born in spring, under the warm breeze. I discover the world... one step at a time.

The cat, stretching lazily:
— The world is vast, Fawn. It smells sometimes of rain, sometimes of leaves, sometimes even of fish grilled near human houses...

The fawn, intrigued:
— Aren't you afraid of them, humans?

The cat, with a little laugh:
— Afraid? No. I watch them. They think they've tamed us... but we're the ones who decide.

The fawn, dreamily:
— I avoid them. My heart beats too fast when I hear them approaching. I prefer the softness of the moss, the birdsong, the murmur of the brook.

The cat, gently:
— You're right, little one. But remember, the world is made of encounters. Some will make you run away... others will teach you to stay.

The fawn, smiling:
— Like you, today?

The cat, with a feline wink:
— Exactly.

The Kitten with the Lion's Roar

In a warm corner of the living room,
Under a ray of blond sunlight,
A little kitten, as soft as a snowflake,
Made the whole house tremble.

His whiskers quivered with emotion,
His round eyes full of determination,
And when he opened his mouth in a round shape...
It was a ROOOOOOOAR worthy of a champion!

The birds flew off the balcony,
The dog flattened like an old balloon,
Even the old armchair bounced—
What a meow! No, what an explosion!

But deep down, he was just a rascal,
A kitten dreaming of being a great lion.
And if his cry was only an illusion,
He carried his ambition high.

[In a cozy corner of the living room, nestled in a soft basket, the feline family is chatting quietly after a long day.]

Mother Cat (Mimine):
My little ones, it's time to calm down a little. You've been running around all day, you must be tired!

Kitten 1 (Hazelnut):
But Mom, we were playing tag with a ball of paper! I was pretty sure I was going to catch it this time!

Daddy Cat (Grisou), yawning:
Catching a ball of paper, eh? You take after me, little one. I was a real champion at your age.

Kitten 2 (Plume), curious:
Daddy, tell me about when you were a street kitten and you jumped on a pigeon!

Daddy Cat (Grisou):
Oh, that! I jumped so high that the pigeon lost a feather! Well, your mom says I'm being a bit dramatic...

Mother Cat (Mimine), smiling:
A lot, you mean! But what's true is that you were brave. And it's that courage that brought you to us.

Kitten 3 (Tigrette), a little grumpy:
I still wanted to play! Why do we have to go to bed so early?

Mother Cat:
Because growing kittens need rest. If you want to be big and agile, you have to sleep.

Kitten 4 (Pompon), in a small voice:
Mom, can we climb on the couch tomorrow?

Daddy Cat:
Only if you don't scratch the cushions like last time. We almost got told off by the humans!

Mother Cat:
All right, everyone, go to bed now. We snuggle up, we purr a little... and tomorrow, it'll be another great kitten adventure!

The Four Kittens (in chorus):
Goodnight, Mommy! Goodnight, Daddy!

Daddy Cat (Grisou), closing his eyes:
Goodnight, my little tigers... and no dog nightmares!

[A young adventurer rubs a dusty old lamp. A puff of smoke erupts, followed by a thunderous "MEOW!"]

Cat-Genie (stepping out of the lamp, stretching):
— Prrrrrr... Finally free! Three centuries locked in there without a single velvet cushion... What an indignity!
You rubbed, biped. You woke me up. So, make your wish, but be careful: I'm a genie... feline.

Adventurer (surprised):
— Uh... You're... a cat?

Cat-Genie (smoothing his mustache regally):
— A cat? No, human. I am Chatzaar, the Great, the Striped, the Purring! The only genie with nine lives and a severe allergy to stupidity. Three wishes. No more. No less. Choose wisely, or I might... ignore you.

Adventurer (intrigued):
— What if I asked to become rich?

Cat-Genie:
— Classic. Predictable. Boring. Don't you have something more creative? A mountain of tuna? An island lined with cushions? A world without dogs?

Adventurer (laughing):
— Okay, then... I want to understand the language of cats.

Cat-Genie (suddenly very serious):
— Are you sure about that? Because once you understand our words, you'll never again be able to ignore our judgments... nor our criticisms of your kibble-pouring.

Adventurer (hesitant):
— I'll take the risk.

Cat-Genie (snapping his claws):
— So be it, brave biped. From now on, every "meow" will have meaning. And I'm warning you... sometimes it's not flattering.

[He disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving behind only a faint scent of sardines and a hair on the adventurer's shoulder.]

"Meow... Each piece divides me, but your gaze can bring me together."

Meow... Can you hear me? I'm here, somewhere between the sky and the cushions of a torn world. Every piece that composes me has fallen, scattered like dream crumbs on the table of silence. My body is fractured, my gaze frozen in expectation. I am nothing more than contours, blurred colors, headless ears, legless tails, voiceless sighs.

And yet, I feel your fingers. I see you leaning over, concentrated, searching for what's missing, what fits, what makes sense. With every click, every piece placed, a little bit of me returns. You may not know it, but you're saving me. You're stitching my fur back together with jagged shapes, you're bringing my whiskers back to life with fragments of images.

I am a cat. I've been locked in this flat, silent labyrinth. But I remain hopeful. For piece by piece, you bring me closer to freedom. And when you finally place the last one, perhaps you'll hear a true purr escape from the image, a gentle breath between two worlds. The puzzle will be finished... and I will be whole.

Cat:
Mmmh... What a strange crack in this wall.
It looks like... a passage to another kingdom.

Voice behind the crack (whispered):
You see, but you don't know.
You look, but will you dare to pass?

Cat (intrigued):
I am a cat. I obey nothing, except my curiosity.
What are you hiding, tiny crack?

Voice:
I am the in-between. The almost nothing. The world we forget.
A breath, a whisper between the bricks.

Cat (tilting his head, blinking):
Then I'm coming. Get ready, mystery.
A snout, then a paw... what if I slip inside?

Voice (smiling in the shadows):
Then you'll see... what even humans have stopped imagining.

The Cat (sitting in front of the aquarium, eyes narrowed):
Hmm... You swim, you turn, you bubble... You never get tired?

The Goldfish (stopping for a moment, intrigued):
And you, you watch, you stare, you salivate... You never get tired?

The Cat (tapping the glass with a cautious paw):
You look so... slippery. But so fascinating. Why are you always in this little pool of glass?

The Goldfish:
And you, why do you always stay on the other side? Afraid of getting wet?

The Cat:
I'm a hunter by nature. It's written in my whiskers.

The Goldfish (giggling in his own way):
And I'm a survivor. It's written in my scales.

The Cat (sighing):
If this window weren't there...

The Goldfish:
If this window weren't there, we wouldn't argue. We'd run away from each other.

The Cat (pensive):
But maybe we'd miss each other.

The Goldfish:
Or maybe we'd understand each other too late.

The Egyptian Cat (proudly, on a warm temple wall):
— Pff. You again, the little engraved drawings! Still there, frozen in stone as if time had forgotten you.

The Hieroglyphs (ancient voice, which seems to come from the wall itself):
— And you, sacred feline, what do you do but lie in the sun and haunt the dreams of priests?

The Cat (licking its paw):
— I live. I sleep, I hunt, I am worshipped. You are dead words.

The Hieroglyphs (mockingly):
— Dead? We are the echo of the pharaohs, the guardians of secrets. You, you meow for a bowl of milk.

The Cat (with a contemptuous purr):
— And yet, I was allowed to sleep on the knees of kings. You? You were scratched on the walls so that the living would mistranslate you centuries later.

The Hieroglyphs (dark):
— One day, no one will be able to read our curves. But your image, O cat, will still reign supreme on frescoes. A strange destiny to be understood and forgotten.

The Cat (half-closed eyes):
— To be adored without being understood, that is true wisdom.

The Three Cats of the Traffic Light

In a city unlike any other, the traffic lights have lost their old bulbs. In their place, three cat heads watch over the intersection, each shining with its own color like a small living sun.

At the top, the Red Cat, all majesty, fixes passersby with an imperious gaze. He doesn't meow, but his silence is clear: "We're stopping." His ruby ​​eyes blaze like a royal warning.

In the middle, the Orange Cat, still a little nervous, turns his head from left to right. His fur blazes like a warning. He blinks gently to say, "Watch out... things are about to change."

At the bottom, the Green Cat purrs peacefully. His tender, tranquil gaze invites us to move forward. He stretches his whiskers and almost whispers, "Go ahead, everything's fine."

Since that day, traffic has become a feline ballet, punctuated by the colorful moods of these luminous cats. And no one crosses without asking their permission, out of the corner of their eye.

Today, I'm talking to you about a cat's tail... very, very long.

Like a magic ribbon, it winds behind the cat, crosses rooms, caresses furniture, and sometimes... trips up the distracted. It is more than a part of a cat: it is a language, a poetry, a plume in motion.

With each quiver, it says what the cat doesn't meow. With each curve, it signifies its presence. And in its immense length, it reminds us that with cats, everything is grace, even what sticks out.