Frazier strained to hear the message, a code from Zeus/Jupiter, for he was the real rain god. Perhaps all natural phenomena—rain, snow, sunshine, an early blossom of pussy willow, a lost swallowtail butterfly, the green eyes of a kitten, a sweet wind from the south—perhaps all these carried messages and we had lost the ability to read them. Frazier could read the newspaper though, and her eyes rested on a searing headline: DON’T BE AFRAID TO TRY CHEESE SOUFFLéS. This encouragement boldly jumped off the page in sans-serif twelve-point type. She mouthed the headline out loud: “Don’t be afraid to try cheese soufflés. Why, yes, what if the soufflé falls? I mean, does one’s sense of self fall with it, kerplat?” The cat rolled over on “kerplat” and purred. Frazier directed this discussion at Basil: “Are cats afraid to try cheese soufflés? I mean, if you could cook, Basil, would fear of failure paralyze you? Paralysis through analysis. There you’d be, frozen in front of the oven, door ajar, gaping at you.
