Clad in concert performer black, Ennis my cat enters the artroom. A large drawing board leans against the worktable with a ring of cowbell windchimes hanging on its corner of the board like a lazy halo. Ennis rises to her hind legs at the board's edge,and affixes her paws on either side like a harpist squaring up to her instrument. The quick, staccato scrapes of Ennis working her nails is counterpointed by the clanging cowbell windchimes. It's strange music, transient, articulate, mumbling meaning that escapes me. I stand in the doorway. Ennis regards me over her shoulder, not missing a note. She soon reaches the coda, resumes life on four legs, and pads out of the room seeking no applause.