I woke up today at dawn at the sound of a cat meowing next to my bed and rubbing against me, persisting in her action in a strange way. I was disquieted by her affair and worried by her concern. ‘She might be hungry,’ I said to myself, so I rose from my bed and brought her some food. She dismissed it and moved away from it. ‘Perhaps she’s thirsty,’ I said, so I guided her to the water, but she did not pay attention to it. She then cast at me looks that voiced the aches and sorrows she harboured inside. Her appearance had such a strong impact on my soul that I wished I was Solomon and could understand the language of animals, to be able to fulfil her need and relieve her distress. I noticed that the door to the room was closed and that she was throwing prolonged looks at it, clinging to me whenever I moved in its direction. I thus realised what her purpose was and understood that she wanted me to open the door for her. I rushed to open it, and no sooner had she looked at the empty space and seen the face of the sky than her state switched from grief and worry to happiness and delight. She proceeded hurriedly on her way, while I retraced my steps to the bed and sank my head into my hands, pondering the affair of this cat, amazed by her, and saying to myself, ‘I wish I knew whether the cat understands the meaning of freedom, as she grieves over its loss and rejoices when encountering it. Yes, she truly understands the meaning of freedom: her sadness, her cries, her relinquishment of food and drink were only for its sake. Her beseeching and hope, her rubbing against my legs and her urgent persistence, were but an endeavour to attain it.’