Late last night, we heard godawful noises outside. One sound was familiar from our days as cat owners, when our young, slim, calico Goldberry whupped the two fat (literally) cats next door, Bert and Ernie. The other sound was totally unfamiliar.
When we went out front to have a look, there, across the street, was our neighbor's black and white cat, hissing loudly and puffed up as big as one of those red rubber balls used for dodgeball in grade school. Facing off with her was a coyote. Jim started yelling, "Shoo, shoo," and waving his arms wildly. The coyote glanced at him briefly and returned its focus to the cat. Finally Jim took his arm waving routine to the street, jogging up and down, still yelling at the coyote. After a few minutes, the coyote gave up and loped slowly west (of course) down the street.
We stood and watched the big animal until we were sure that he was well on his way. Meanwhile, the cat continued with the pufferfish imitation and non-stop hissing, no doubt convinced, in the way of all felines, that she had scared off that vicious wild animal.
Close Encounter With a Carnivore
A little bit of Belgium
. . . in a Denver neighborhood. And, no, I didn't PhotoShop in those Gothic spires in the background.
For my girlfriends . . .
I finally went to see the "Sex and the City" movie this afternoon. Alone, which really sucked.
The movie brought back the wonderful times I've had with my girlfriends . . .
from the first night Judy and I spent in our dorm room, when she poked a hole in the ceiling with her umbrella trying to get our upstairs neighbors to stop bouncing a basketball at 1 a.m. and then tried to hide the hole with her white saddle shoe polish . . .
to countless Starbucks and endless, perfect hours of hanging out with Catherine . . .
to margaritas and bitching at Border Cantina with "The Gang" (you know who you are) . . .
to margaritas on Beth's patio (do I detect a trend?) . . .
to wandering Les Marolles and eating pastries at Teddy's with Jill.
I miss every single one of you irreplaceable women.
The Tattered Cover
He has been thirsting for books, for anything to read. He has long ago finished The Riddle of the Sands, which he brought with him into NEFA, and has been reduced to reading the labels on bottles of medicine, the fine print at the bottom of army requisition forms, and as even these have run out he has started to experience a kind of panic, as if he is slowly drowning.
Vikram Chandra
from Sacred Games
