Gego, by design, and not unlike myself, is a CREATURE of the NIGHT. When he is at home in his high tower in Friedrichshain, his mother Isabella lets him roam the courtyard all night. She leaves the front door cracked open for him to come and go as he pleases, presumably to occasionally take breaks from terrorizing the local bird and small rodent population. But now he is here in my high tower in Schöneberg, where I have no courtyard, just a backyard . . . and there is just no way I’m letting him run around my neighborhood all night. If I lost Gego, my life would be forfeit! And so I have to keep him inside all the time, which I can tell has begun to stir some ancient craziness in him. I understand and sympathize with this impulse. So a few minutes ago, I opened my balcony door and let the cold November breeze fill my apartment. I said to Gego:

“BROTHER, DO YOU SMELL THE NIGHT . . . ?”

. . . and we both sniffed at the crisp air coming in through the open door. I stood next to him in the doorway and in silence we felt that old familiar feeling and felt very good indeed. Yet that scent had activated something inside him, and glancing down he looked downright feral now. His large eyes widened and he let out a primordial sound. Desperately he needed to be outside in it—to be one with the Night again. So I crossed the length of the room to get to my antechamber where I’m storing his suitcase. I retrieved his harness and leash and he recoiled at the sight and ran under my bed. I understood then: Gego does not wish to go out into the night a tethered man. He must be free inside of it. Again, I understood. But I reminded him that my primary directive is to ensure his survival, safety, and comfort. To release him into the darkness with no means of retrieval would be a betrayal of my duties. He huffed at this. I’m serious!

Eventually I closed the balcony door on account of it’s only a few degrees above freezing. Now he is pawing furiously at the door to be let out. I’m on the fourth floor, by the way. I have no doubt that if I opened it and the screen door beyond and let him roam the balcony, he’d jump into one of the trees and kill whatever was sleeping there. I’m dead serious. He absolutely would do that. Under no circumstances is he allowed to kill the little red squirrels!

Hopefully he’ll give up and pass out soon . . . he’s very cute when he’s sleeping.