This morning I walk down Martel, across to Fuller, down to Santa Monica to Trader Joe’s on my way to work. On the way, I see this sign. It makes me sad.
I pause to look at the cat, and linger just a second, remembering a stray I once adopted named Mooch, and I think about how when I recently tell Rosa at work that Mooch was carried off by owls, she bursts out laughing. Not because this amuses her, but because she thinks I’m joking.
Anyway, just ten feet past the sign I turn and see something that has me reaching for my camera. Click on the picture above to see what I mean (opens a pop-up window.)
He’s just sitting there on his ass, licking his belly. I have to go back and forth between the cat and the sign a couple times before I conclude that it’s not the same cat.
It’s unfortunate he’s not the guy, expecially, because THAT really would have been funny.
And, hey, if anyone does see the real culprit, please give that number a call. There’s no doubt he’s missed.
