I saw Puss a few days ago, walking down Stone Street –a street, by the way, that has no traffic one it. He was on the street, and wanting to get on the sidewalk to go into Lena’s. But there was a miniature stream of rainwater running down the hill, narrower and broader in turn. Puss was looking for a suitable crossing point –didn’t want to get its paws wet.
Eventually it gave up looking, and went back to a point which –on second feline thoughts– it figured was probably the best it was going to do.
Then it just jumped, and continued on to Lena’s door.
I don’t see Puss every day. It’s always something of an event to see him.
On Saturday I rode my bike over to Home Depot to get some plants and some birdseed. (I discovered with the last bag of birdseed that I had gotten all sunflower seed: most of the birds have by now developed their own way of conveying “Hey, what’s this….” and after oneday of all sunflower seed, they were already letting me know,)
On my way back, along Targee St., –about two long blocks from the house– I see something disturbing: the dead body of an all-black cat, obviously just very recently killed by a car. Unlike Stone St., Targee is a very busy street, with cars moving at high speed. From time to time some of those cars fail to take the corner at the top of Targee, and smash into the house on the corner. (That’s where I get my Iraq metaphor from: some of those cars do so much structural damage, that –like the U.S. in Iraq– they can’t pull out until the structure has been shored up.)
Now, one of these cars had hit and killed this poor cat.
It was only when I reached home and put away my bike, that a sense of apprehension came over me: that poor cat. That couldn’t have been Puss, could it?
No, I immediately countered myself. Much too far away. Puss didn’t go down Targee. At least not that far. Puss has his own itinerary; doesn’t go that far away.
Then I realize that I don’t know Puss’s itinerary. I don’t know how far he roamed.
(Even in this blog, I realize that I am playing with tenses –does Puss?; did Puss?)
Lena is away for a couple of days, so I haven’t been able to check with her. But I’ve been out to check, on the street, in the garden, a lot, and am fighting a sense of foreboding.
I so much hope I am wrong.