A strange looking thing ran by, legs that weren't legs, fur that wasn't fur. It ran by, then it ran back, and made a loud, screeching noise. But the little thing's mother answered it kindly, and acted friendly to it; it came over to pet it, and then began petting all of its siblings, making softer noises at them.

Time passed, the world growing dark and light, dark and light again. The strange thing came back with another of its kind, bigger, perhaps its own mother? And made its own cries, strange stops and starts, no miau miau like the way the little thing spoke.

Its hands were bald, soft and clumsy; it ran them down the little thing's back like how its mother groomed it, and it scratched at the little thing's ear like how its mother licked it. So the little thing decided that this strange thing must be kind.

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