It would be there that Pixie would be granted an odd view: there sat a korat beneath a tree in a meditative pose, eyes closed, palms atop his knees with their palms up, for all the world at peace . . . save for the panting dog before him, eyeing him with large and warm brown eyes. Takashi had somehow acquired this guy's interest while heading to the park and, to his dismay, he was unable to shake him off properly. Even now as he had sat down to do some of his meditation, so too had the dog sat on his haunches, copying him with owlish curiosity. It yapped once; the cat did not so much as flinch. It yapped again; still nothing.
Heavens above, I hate dogs . . . Takashi took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, still ignoring the dog in hopes that it would simply grow bored.
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