We awoke to a diffused orange glow peeking from under the cloudy sky in our eastward view room. The anniversary bouquet replete with thistles and white roses sat on the open window ledge facing the morning mists. It seemed like the perfect occasion for a walk, so we set out along the path, er road, the only road in Iona, which finally leads to the remote north shore. As we took to the gravel path, a smallish tabby with a white chest emerged from under the hedgerow to greet us. Cats like this usually are not predisposed to friendliness, but much to our delight, this feline set out on our journey to the end of the isle. There and back again she led us, frolicking and prancing to the rhythm of nature. It was as if Miss Puss was inhabited by some ancient soul who guided us to the ultimate payoff of our little trek at dawn. There at the north shore which had certainly seen its share of Viking raids, the sun broke out from the morning cloud cover and revealed the glorious antiquities of Iona in a subtle reddish light. A celtic cross stood guard as some locals played magical flute melodies that floated through the air. Kitty, undeterred, held straight on the path, unimpressed by the sweet music she had no doubt heard a thousand times. Heading back as the sun rose even higher, Miss Puss stopped to take in the abbey view framed by fresh pink roses. Finally, as this unlikely trio found its way back to the St. Columba Hotel, our magical celtic companion lingered by the garden gate unwilling just yet to say goodbye. As reward, I offered our new friend a saucer of milk which was surreptitiously procured from the breakfast room.