Here’s the secret at the center of the maze, here’s the pebble in the dirt-drawn circle – you are not a cat, you are not a rabbit you are not predator you are not prey – only the potential to be one or the other until you are in motion. The dwarf female watches me watching the cat. Albino, she should be a tender morsel served raw in her own skin. She growls, she defies; brave as a fairytale princess fleeing incestuous marriage; bargaining with witches; herding geese; slitting the wolf’s throat - she is no-one’s meat. The elderly male is sleepy and dozes humped in a soft loaf. Even the female sways on her feet. The day is hot and both are nocturnal. The old rabbit, uneasy in his dreaming, reaches out to her, not a trembling hand, but a twitching nose. She sniffs in reply, jumps him o’er easily, backs her haunches into his side. His eyes close immediately – a dappled rex, he would be invisible save for her stark white vigilance. I watch her watching the cat. The cat’s pupils contract with desire; the little white rabbit elongates towards it, fascinated. She can’t help it. Here’s the pause before it unfreezes, here’s the space between here and safe – none of this is anyone’s fault.