Sunday, July 8, 2007
She had a cat once. They hated each other. Still , she kept it until the week she moved in with him. Nearly sixteen years. He loved a cat once. It was in the barn, and every morning it would be there by the door, just waiting for him to pet it. He was too young to know it was dead. Every weekend, the pet shop two blocks away holds pet adoptions, and every weekend she stops to peer in the cages, and every weekend he has to hurry her along. Now he asks if she wants a cat, to keep her company while he's at work. He has to get back to work. She says it would probably grow to hate her. He says there's always the compactor. She looks out the window.