I agree with her.

"Hey, would you tell me the whole story, from the beginning?" she says, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "I don't think I'm going to get much more sleep tonight, so I might as well hear it all."

I explain everything to her, from the time I left home. I leave out the omen part, though. That, I know, I can't tell just anyone.

Is it all right, then, if Nakata calls you Kawamura?" He repeated the question to the striped brown cat, enunciating his words slowly, making it as easy to understand as he could.

This particular cat had said he thought he had run across Goma, the missing one-year-old tortoiseshell, in this vicinity. But from Nakata's viewpoint, he spoke very strangely. The feeling was mutual, for the cat seemed to be having its own problems following him. Their conversation was at cross purposes.

"I don't mind at all, the tallest of heads."

"Pardon me, but Nakata doesn't understand what you're saying. Forgive me, but I'm not so bright."

"It's a tuna, to the very end."

"Are you perhaps saying you'd like to eat a tuna?"

"No. The hands tied up, before."

Nakata never went into these conversations with cats expecting to be able to easily communicate everything. You have to anticipate a few problems when cats and humans try to speak to each other. And there was another factor to consider: Nakata's own basic problems with talking-not just with cats, but also with people. His easy conversation with Otsuka the previous week was more the exception than the rule, for invariably getting across even a simple message took a great deal of effort. On bad days it was more like two people on the opposite shores of a canal yelling to each other on a windy day. And today was one of those days.

He wasn't sure why, but striped brown cats were the hardest to get on the same wavelength with. With black cats things mostly went well. Communicating with Siamese cats was the easiest of all, but unfortunately there weren't too many stray Siamese wandering the streets, so the chance didn't present itself often. Siamese were mainly kept at home, well taken care of. And for some reason striped brown cats made up the bulk of the strays.

Even knowing what to expect, Nakata found Kawamura impossible to decipher. He enunciated his words poorly, and Nakata couldn't catch what each one meant, or the connection between them. What the cat said came off sounding more like riddles than sentences. Still, Nakata was infinitely patient, and had plenty of time on his hands. He repeated the same question, over and over, having the cat repeat his responses. The two of them were seated on a boundary stone marking a little park for children in a residential area. They'd been talking for nearly an hour, going round and round in circles.

"Kawamura is just a name I'll call you. It doesn't mean anything. Nakata gives names to each cat so it's easy to remember. It won't cause you any problems, I guarantee it. I'd just like to call you that, if you don't mind."

In response Kawamura kept muttering something incomprehensible, and seeing as how this wasn't likely to stop anytime soon Nakata interrupted, trying to move their talk along by showing Kawamura the photo of Goma once more.

"Mr. Kawamura, this is Goma. The cat that Nakata is looking for. A one-year-old tortoiseshell cat. She's owned by the Koizumis of the 3-chome neighborhood in Nogata, who lost track of her a while back. Mrs. Koizumi opened a window and the cat leaped out and ran away. So once more I'd like to ask you, have you seen this cat?"

Kawamura gazed at the photograph again and nodded.

"If it's tuna, Kwa'mura tied. Tied up, try to find."

"I'm sorry, but as I said a moment ago, Nakata is not very bright, and can't understand very well what you're getting at. Would you mind repeating that?"

"If it's tuna, Kwa'mura tries. Try to find and tied it up."

"By tuna, you mean the fish?"

"Tries the tuna, tie it, Kwa'mura."

Nakata rubbed his closely cropped, salt-and-pepper hair and puzzled this over. What could he possibly do to solve this tuna riddle and escape from the maze the conversation had become? No matter how much he put his mind to it, however, he was clueless. Puzzling things out logically, after all, wasn't exactly his forte. Totally blithe to it all, Kawamura lifted a rear leg and gave the spot just below his chin a good scratch.

Just then Nakata thought he heard a small laugh behind him. He turned and saw, seated on a low concrete wall next to a house, a lovely, slim Siamese looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me, but would you by chance be Mr. Nakata?" the Siamese purred.

"Yes, that's correct. My name's Nakata. It's very nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure," the Siamese replied.

"It's been cloudy since this morning, but I don't expect we'll be seeing any rain soon," Nakata said.

"I do hope the rain holds off."

The Siamese was a female, just approaching middle age. She proudly held her tail up straight, and had a collar with a name tag. She had pleasant features and was slim, with not an ounce of extra fat.

"Please call me Mimi. The Mimi from La Bohème. There's a song about it, too: 'Si, Mi Chiamano Mimi.'"

"I see," Nakata said, not really following.

"An opera by Puccini, you know. My owner happens to be a great fan of opera," Mimi said, and smiled amiably. "I'd sing it for you, but unfortunately I'm not much of a singer."

"Nakata's very happy to meet you, Mimi-san."

"Same for me, Mr. Nakata."

"Do you live near here?"

"Yes, in that two-story house over there. The Tanabes' house. You see it, right? The one with the cream-colored BMW 530 parked in front?"

"I see," Nakata repeated. He had no idea what a BMW was, but he did spot a cream-colored car. That must be what she meant.

"Mr. Nakata," Mimi said, "I'm known as self-reliant, or perhaps you'd say a very private sort of cat, and I don't normally interfere in others' affairs. But that youngster-the one I believe you're referring to as Kawamura?-is not what I would call the brightest kitty in the litter. When he was still young a child hit him with his bicycle, the poor thing, and he struck his head against some concrete. Ever since then he hasn't made much sense. So even if you are patient with him, as I see you've been, you won't get anywhere. I've been watching for a while, and I'm afraid I couldn't just sit idly by. I know it's forward of me to do so, but I had to say something."

"No, please don't think that. I'm very happy you told me. Nakata's as dumb as Kawamura, I'm afraid, and can't get by without other people's help. That's why I get a sub city from the Governor every month. So I'm very happy to hear your opinion, Mimi."

"I take it you're looking for a cat," Mimi said. "I wasn't eavesdropping, mind you, but just happened to overhear you as I was taking a nap here. Goma, I believe you said the name was?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"And Kawamura has seen Goma?"

"That's what he told me. But Nakata can't figure out what he said after that."

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Nakata, why don't I step in and try to talk with him? It's easier for two cats to communicate, and I'm fairly used to the way he talks. So why don't I sound him out, then summarize it for you?"

"That would be very helpful, I'm sure."

The Siamese nodded lightly, and like a ballet dancer nimbly leaped down from the concrete wall. Black tail held up high like a flagstaff, she leisurely walked over and sat down beside Kawamura. He immediately began to sniff Mimi's rump, but the Siamese gave him a swift blow to the cheek and the younger cat shrank back. With barely a pause Mimi dealt him another blow to the nose.

"Now pay attention, you brainless dingbat! You stinky good-for-nothing!" Mimi hissed, then turned to Nakata. "You've got to show him who's in charge up front or you'll never get anywhere. Otherwise he'll go all spacey on you, and all you get is drivel. It's not his fault he's this way, and I do feel sorry for him, but what are you going to do?"