From Where I Sit

This is the best time of the year, better, even, than spring, for the leaves float so lightly to the ground you’d think they could change course in mid-flight and rise right back to their branches. The trees are still dressed in their thin autumn way, and the clouds billow and darken and whiten as they race across the sky to who-knows-where.

I’m the only dog here who looks up to see these things. Shane and Saki watch the street, which might or might not have its advantages.

For example, they’re on constant tender hooks because the cat across the street taunts them with that arrogant arch in her tiger-striped back. Whereas most cats will pretend to ignore you—especially if you’re a dog—this cat stares right through the chain-link fence. It’s as though she knows we haven’t figured out how to unlatch the gate. And does she ever take advantage! Shane and Saki get all upset and whiny.

Not me. I play the part the cat should play. I ignore—or pretend to ignore—all the silliness of confrontation and discourse. I try to give Saki and Shane the occasional word of advice, but do they listen? Of course not. So here I sit and choose the views that please me best.

Best wishes, Juno