Every morning a black and white cat appears at the window of the apartment across from my office. A long stretch. A pink yawn. It pokes at the sill with its front paw testing to see if the window is open. It’s not. It sits up and leans against the glass absorbing the sun with its eyes closed. It curls its black tail and stays as still as a Latin American question mark at the beginning of a sentence.
Lately it hasn’t been at its post when I arrive, which worries me. I immediately think it finally walked out on the ledge, slipped and fell to its death, except cats don’t typically die this way because they’re acrobats and reverse themselves in mid-fall and land on all four legs.
So what happened? I walk out of the building and there it is in the middle of a stacks of bricks, not-so thriving plants, and a rusting car. The lot next door is a dumping ground for all things discarded.
It’s black and white markings peak through the dying plants. It looks at me. It seems quite happy tip-toeing among the ruins. The sun is on its back. It’s free. I’m relieved and come back indoors.
The next day I come into my office, it’s back at the window looking down. I guess this is the arrangement with its owner, like a wayward son, sometimes coming home, but mostly on the prowl.
Calvin says, “A vagabond with a pied
Walking up the hill this morning to the office, I was forced to walk around a mattress and box spring, a couch, a chair, snow boots, and a lamp. Somebody threw them out from the building they once lived in.
My office is surrounded by apartment buildings, so on one level I suppose it makes sense.
On another, it’s a mystery.
It screams “single life”, “moving on”, “take my trash and shove it.”
What’s even more of a mystery is the disappearance of all those things within hours.
I left the office later this morning and most of the stuff was gone.
Where does it go?
Who picks it up?
I never see anyone doing this.
Do gremlins emerge from the gutters like a line of ants?
Do the homeless pick it up? Except today it was raining, but things still disappeared.
The oddest thing I’ve ever seen on the street was a wig and women’s clothing.
I don’t want to guess what that meant.
Calvin says, “It meant one discarded multiple personality.”