Sunday, January 21, 2018

Every Bistro Needs a Cat

Having finished shaking down all the patrons at the sidewalk tables, the gray cat walks back into the bistro and, after a moment's consideration, jumps up on the banquette just out of Katie's reach and begins to wash himself. I make a tsk-ing noise to attract his attention, but he ignores me completely and, if anything, washes with even more concentration.

"Why you using his government name?" Katie says. "You know how many people must waste his time every day by trying to get his attention without giving him food?"
One year ago: Just Like My Father
Two years ago: What a Fool Beliebs
Three years ago: The Virtues of Illness
Four years ago: What Am I, A Child?
Seven years ago: The Prisoner

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