This morning came a knock on the door. (The neighbors don’t know how a doorbell works.) I answered it and found a little blond boy, aged seven or eight.
”You know over there?” He pointed to the neighbor’s overgrown brush. “Have you seen…? If you see my neighbor’s black and brown cat, it is lost.”
We discuss how much of the cat is black and how much is brown. We also discuss the monsterous brown tiger that sits on my deck and pretends he owns my garden and the fluffy black cat that hides under the front azalea near my front door.
”What’s the cat’s name?” I ask.
”I don’t know. It has two letters.”
”If I see it, should I call someone?”
“I don’t know the number.”
Addendum: The cat’s name is LT and the second house on the left at the end of street has lost him. Also, his dog – a husky which struggled mightily to get past my legs and into the house – is 18 months old.