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Homeless 0-37: Cat's Feet

I’m proud to say that I’m a cat person. Amy, too.

We live in dog town, USA.

We watch as neighbors’ dogs drag their owners around regardless of the weather, pooping in appreciation, I guess, and indifferently leaving the mess for their owners to snag.

Dogs grow up to be eternal adolescents after an overlong babyhood. By which I mean they never seem to really grow up.

Also, chuck your typical dog. Will it land on its feet? It’s as likely to land on its head!

Being cat people, we seem to land on our feet. The last week removed from the frantic search for a replacement home seems to have ginned up the chi. Coming off the plane last night, I picked up a hot new lead. This morning, a neighbor forwarded a note from a friend in the neighborhood who has a place to rent.

Feels like we’ll emerge from this latest punt landing on our feet. Like the kitty pictured above, getting punted can be terrifying. Rudely displaced from the ground, propelled into surprisingly thin air, abandoned there to cobble together some semblance of a landing, it should be reassuring that we tend to land on our feet. Maybe we forgot.

The trip up looks as if it might have been considerably more terrifying than the trip back down promises to be. Change might first appear wearing cork-soled boots; it resolves itself on little cat’s feet.

©2012 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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