högninn

These days go by periodically, ones on which I honestly cannot recall why it is that I do not own a cat.

Then I think: maybe I do own a cat, and he's just out on his rounds. I see him in my mind's eye making his brindled way around the neighborhood, paying respects and having respects paid. Dodging under parked cars. Regarding indoor dogs haughtily through the glass. Turning, as he steps along, each forefoot inward and over like a cardplayer picking up his hand of cards from the table and holding them near his chest where he can just see them before setting them back down.

Then I wonder when he'll get back, full of neighborhood gossip but meowing for dinner. Then I recall that I do not own a cat, and he scampers away again until the next one of these days happens.