Nadia, the maid, has a wonderful way of informing me of ongoing current events in the Arab Republic of Egypt. She walked in today and said, “Mister Hosni Mubarak television blub-blub-blub.” (I guess he was on TV talking about the spate of bombings.) Really, those were her exact words. I shall miss her.

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Do you know that feeling when you suddenly realize something really important to you is actually something completely different? The metaphor I always use is that of the cat that barks. One day you wake up and your cat is there beside you and it starts to bark.

As I’ve mentioned before, Cairo is filled with dead and dying cats. Since early this morning I’ve been hearing a crying noise coming from the garbage-strewn shaft in my apartment block. I figured it must be a cat who’d run into some mortal trouble, and I was hoping the doorman would do something about it, like rescue it or put it out of its misery.

Recently the cries turned into high-pitched yelps, something almost more like a bark from a little dog than a frantic meow. I went over to the window in the kitchen and peered down into the shaft in case I could see something.

On a disused stairway across the darkened shaft there stands a kitten. And I swear, it’s barking. It doesn’t appear to be injured or anything. It’s fine. It’s just barking. I do not jest. The cat is barking.