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Editor's Note: Camilo Egaña is the Camilo driver . The opinions expressed in this article are exclusive to the author.
(CNN Spanish) - My cat appeared after one of those hurricanes that electrify Miami to the point of turning them meteorologists. And looters of whatever there is in supermarkets.
He arrived with the post: pneumonia and extreme thinness. A soul in sorrow. First he tried to go unnoticed; He looked out the glass door of the courtyard and pretended not to see us and after a week he meowed to let him in.
For two years he lives with us, outside and inside, which is how well-born cats like to live.
My cat does not know that Maluma broke down when he received his private plane, excited as if he were his first child. Nor does he know that Bolsonaro has denied that the Amazon rainforest is being devastated.
Nor that Isabel Pantoja's relationship with her daughter seems to go from bad to worse. Or that Donald Trump has said he deserves the Nobel Peace Prize.
What my cat does know is that at home it is in safe territory. That he is loved and that if at dawn, one of those lúmpnes cats of the neighborhood appears - marrulleros and lacking class consciousness -, we are there to protect him from the blow.
The truth is that my cat has nothing of wild hunter or alpha male.
Since he is a refugee, I suppose he tries to live on tiptoe, without disturbing, without asking too much. And without memory of absences.
What my cat will never know is what we are supposed to be as human beings, and that we will never be. And between so much unease, that almost reassures me.