I think I’m in love with Davide Martello. The German pianist loaded his trailer with a piano, a cat and his big heart and drove to Poland where he set up shop in the streets to bring the light of his music to the Ukrainian refugees arriving In Poland from Ukraine.

Like the piano man, my kitty, Lark, has the ability to imagine that things – even the very worst of things – could be better with a little light in whatever form that takes.

Lark is a seeker of the sun. She can squeeze it from the tiniest crevice.

If there’s a slice of light in the house, she will bathe herself in it. When we adopted each other, three years ago, no available sunlight reached her cage in the shelter where she slept in her litter box, pillowed by her own crossed tuxedo paws.

One slit of green eye peered up at me without moving her head. “Don’t bother,” her expression said. “No one wants me. I’m used to it.”

But something between us clicked and I knew that I had to bother. For her sake and my own. I found out why as soon as we brought her home. Daughter Sara, who had been championing my cat adoption, reached into the cat carrier box and gently petted its inhabitant who walked out slowly but confidently and checked out her new surroundings.

Sunshine from the open window was creating a diamond-shaped image on the carpet and Lark luxuriated into it like it was a feline bubble bath. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” her expression said. And we knew that she knew she was home.

The cat named after a morning bird thrived in her new home full of windows. I would find her curled up in sun shapes all over the house, her favorite being the afternoon light paintings that meander through the glass panels of the kitchen french door.

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Lark made a rare appearance on my lap last night as we watched a news clip of Mr. Martello pedaling through the streets of Poland with a piano hitched to his bike. She purred into the light from the television screen.

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