It was the cat—the one she’d met before, who was neither a big cat nor a small cat. She must have come in without Kate hearing. Her head had dramatic black stripes, almost like a badger’s. Kate really wanted to know what kind of cat she was.

“Sorry,” Kate said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I saw you there,” the cat said.

“For a second I thought you were a pillow.”

“For a second I thought you were a large, defenseless rodent.”

Kate wondered if she should be a little worried. She was definitely bigger than the cat, but she wouldn’t have wanted to get into a fight with her.

“I guess I was really caught up in this book I’m reading,” Kate said carefully.

“It must be very good.”

“It’s all right. There’s a lot of description. I’ve been skimming a little. Have you read it?”

“No,” the cat said. “I’m not here for the books.”

“Oh. Why are you here?”

“To be alone. We’re not social animals.”

Kate wondered if that was a hint that she should leave. But she was here first. And it was her train. She tried to keep things going instead.

“What kind of cat are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I don’t mind. I’m a fishing cat.”

“Sorry, but does that mean you’re a cat who likes to fish? Or is there an actual kind of cat called a fishing cat?”

“The second one.” She began licking a large paw. “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of us. There aren’t many of us, and we don’t get as much attention as the big cats. We’re related to the rusty-spotted cats and the flat-headed cats—unfortunate name that, although it’s true, they have very flat heads. And they eat fruit, if you can believe it. A cat that eats fruit! Also the leopard cats.”

“Oh. Are leopard cats the same as leopards?”

“No.”

There was another lull. Kate tried to think of something more to say. It was hard to tell what the cat was thinking. Though she guessed that was true of every cat ever.

“So—what’s it like being a fishing cat?”

“Oh, you know. We live in swamps and mangrove forests. We hunt. We swim. And we fish, obviously.”

“Wait, you swim? Like, in water?”

“Absolutely!” It was the first topic the fishing cat sounded really enthusiastic about. “We love it. Other cats think it’s weird, but we don’t care. I mean, it’s not like we eat fruit!”

“I can’t believe you swim!”

“Well, I don’t like to boast about it. Tigers do it, too. But fishing cats probably do it the most. We have waterproof fur. And look.” She held up a paw. “Our toes are even a little bit webbed.”

“That is so amazing!”

The cat seemed pleased.