I lean back in the chair, fully reclined, and close my eyes, trying to block out the yipping yipping yipping from over the fence. I am almost completely relaxed when I sense movement near my left arm.
Before I go any further, let me tell you that I live near the river. I also have trees around and am constantly chasing chipmunks and squirrels from my side of the fence. When I notice the movement, I immediately assume one of three things: it's a chipmunk, it's a squirrel, it's a river rat. Or, my next thought is not so innocuous: It could be the neighborhood skunk.
I try not to make any sudden movements, but it's futile. My eyes fly open, and my head tilts upright in the beach chair. My breath is caught in my chest, and I am momentarily terrified and a little disoriented, unsure as to what I'm going to find.
One of the neighborhood cats is staring at me and bumps its head against mine, rubbing my hair and purring, swishing its tail across my cheek. I try to be mad, but it is a cute cat. It's gray and white, and it's an itty-bitty of a thing for an adult cat. I've seen this cat around before, but I thought its owners moved, taking the cat with them. I am mistaken. Apparently, this cat and I haven't been on the same schedule since last summer. The cat explores my patio, and I attempt to snap its picture, but the cat keeps moving around, stopping three more times to greet me before moving on to the small patch of grass in front of my house. It's time for me to go in, anyway. It's a nice visit, but, best of all, I have forgotten for a few moments that the dog, annoying as heck, is still barking just beyond my fence.
