When I was little, I often went to Central Park with Mama and Papa. I enjoyed riding on Papa’s head or shoulder and marching around the beautiful park. He would always wear a hat, and I would lay my belly on his head and rest my front paws on the brim. People passing by would always give us big smiles, and I would wave to them with my tail. Sometimes Papa would let me down on the ground, and I could walk free.

Well, I did have to wear a leash on my neck like a dog. Walking in the park was exciting—if Papa didn’t pull me too often. I told him that when I’m on a leash and walking, I should be in charge of the direction. He agreed, but if I sniffed in one location too long, he couldn’t wait and carried me to another place.

Sometimes, he didn’t want me to climb a tree if it was too tall because he wouldn’t be able to follow me—at least, that’s what he said. People found it unusual that a cat was walking on a leash. I like being in the park, but getting there is a pain in the neck. I hate being surrounded by loud scary traffic noises on the streets. Riding the subway is not so bad, but sometimes it is extremely noisy, too. Well, sometimes if you bear pain, the relief you feel when it goes away can give you pleasure. So, when I get to the park, I enjoy soaking the warm sun into my fuzzy fur under the blue sky.
This happened on one of those fun afternoons in early summer. I met a pretty little girl, Luci, in the park.
(To be continued in the book, "Happy Birthday, the Cat")

Where am I?