Not the time for a civilized, respectable, intelligent cat to be out. A proper cat like himself, Baccat, who embodied great enough attributes to become a Familiar Companion to a human who would treat him right and care for him.
Autumn had faded away with spitting sleet and winter threatened frost, and worse, snow.
His only slightly hardened pads shriveled with cold as he trotted light footed along the cold sidewalks in the overcast night.
Right now he slept in a dirt hollow under thick bushes behind the Turquoise House, another intelligent being, though quite immobile. But before Baccat could ask the House to let him stay inside, last summer when he he had landed newly on the streets of the city, the House had gathered a Family with two cats — one the small Pinky and the other the very nasty Ratkiller.