damn felines

Lucky walks down the street, looking left and right, left and right, watching for food, cars, and feet, all of which are common on a sunny Sunday afternoon. He spots a cat, sitting on a wall, staring back at him with those yellow eyes, swishing its tail back an forth, back and forth. Lucky barks, like he should, (he is a dog of course) and the cat hisses at him and scampers across the wall and disappears into a window on the apartments. Satisfied, Lucky walks down the street, running through puddles from the open fire hydrant that the kids play in, shaking off the water after he is far enough away. He walks down to the park, and sits next to his owner's grave, and sleeps in the afternoon sun.

RAINY DAY

Lucky finishes urinating, and walks down the street. He sees a billboard on the right side of the street "STOP GOING SO OFTEN WITH FLOMAX" and this gets him thinking, "maybe I have an overactive bladder, that explains all of the frequent visits to the fire hydrant. ( or sleeping Russians) Lucky continues to stroll down the street, passing by the subway that smells like old fried rice and smoke. He sits on the vent, taking in the heat of the subway cars, remembering the hundreds of heaters that he has leaned against on lonely nights. He recalls the warm bed that he once had, in the corner next to his owners' bed. He longs for a real bath and a bowl of real food, neither of which seem real anymore, just memories and feelings that have long left his body. For the first time in a long time he hates the unlimited freedom that comes with being a stray, and yearns for companionship. He walks into the alley next to the apartment building, and curls up next to the entrance, shivering. He sleeps on and off, feeling the heat of the apartment rushing through his body every time someone opens the door, and then the biting cold of the city streets.