This cat, a lady cat, lives in a small village where we often go in the morning to buy bread (the best baker of the area!) or to have a cup of coffee and a croissant in a local easy-going cafe, which has a calm and flowered terrace.

There is not any danger for cats to stroll freely and at their pleasure in the village streets.

This one, who usually spends her happy feline life lazing philosophically on a wicker chair in front of the door of what I suppose, must be her home ( I cannot say her owners’ home, cats ,as it’s well known, have no owners, they have just human partners), for unknown reasons has an enthusiastic liking for me.

She usually doesn’t pay absolutely any attention to people, or simply avoid to be caressed by good-willing passers-by, with a disdaining and a little scornful movement.

But when she sees me she run to me to rub herself against my legs.

This display of benevolence honours me, but on the other side it prevents me from taking photos of the cat, as I’d like, because she comes immediately too close to me.

I took that this morning I could manage, because she seemed to be sleepy and I had the presumption to be quicker than her in my reaction....

As always I was wrong...

No hope to have a gracious shot of an elegant cat curled up on a wicker chair among flower pots...

All what I could have, trying to be quick is a kind of snapshot of a furry bullet.