Assuming the fog does come in on little cat feet, I would argue that the sharp tick tick tick of new rain against the window comes in on little dog feet. It’s not raining this morning; the cats won out and here I am like Ilsa on the runway in Casablanca, wondering why there would be such a heavy mist in the desert of North Africa. We’re not in the desert here though, it’s the rainforest so the mist makes perfect sense, even if cats brought it in. We don’t mind cats. In fact, we miss Owen terribly, buried for two years now in the backyard and helping to grow a splendid columbine. It would seem that flowers may also come in on little cat feet, or perhaps little hamster or guinea pig feet too. Any feet that had love and sweetness attached.
Cat poop consumed: no
