I was walking my friend Sadie’s beautiful grey Bengal cat Nigil on his leash in her Montauk neighborhood, when we saw 4 rabbits in a yard. Nigil stopped and twitched, all muscular attention. The rabbits froze. I watched. We all waited. Then, after about 5 minutes, it occurred to me that there was no reason to scare the rabbits, that I should just move Nigil along and let the rabbits continue their fun in the grass, so I did, and to my surprise, Nigil came along peacefully. There are always more rabbits. Besides, he had a surfboard to ride.
One afternoon, Sadie and I were walking along the beach in Montauk right at the edge of the water, when we saw something move between the rocks. “A sea worm,” Sadie said. It was a long rusty red worm creature with lots of little legs. I said maybe it was a millipede. We didn’t know what to call it; we just liked the way it moved—undulating and curling in and out of the rocks in the cool, shallow water. It moved with a rhythm all its own.
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