crossing the street on my way home one sunday afternoon i saw something furry laying beside the curb. peering as if over a ledge i saw a large white cat lying there stiff & terribly still, some of its fur frosted pink but not like spilling wine in the snow. i stood there frozen, stabbed in the solar plexus thinking, "oh no kitty!" and then a middle-aged woman wearing a bicycle helmet crossed the street and i felt relieved as middle-aged women who wear bicycle helmets usually know how to handle such matters. i say, "excuse me do you recognize this cat?" and she says that she's often seen it wandering around her block and thinks it was homeless but she doesn't know and she doesn't what else to do and so we turn and go our separate ways. there's probably someone to call but i don't know who. i love cats but i don't have one because i live alone in a studio apartment and i would feel bad leaving an animal alone in my apartment all day and i go out a lot but then i remember the cat picture i took one morning walking to my favorite cafe. i met a sweet white cat along the way as i walked past the funky house with the plastic dinosaurs in the apocalyptic front yard. the cat emerged from its rubble purring and eager to be pet, so sweet i took its picture, which i saved in my phone. upstairs, alone in my studio, i take a moment to scroll through the memories i have recorded, finding the picture that neatly ties this sad package.
No comments:
Post a Comment