The plan was to leash Guinness and Dizzy to the porch where we’d enjoy a glass of wine and our indoor cats could experience the fresh summer evening without pancaking on Rideau Avenue. All was interspecie harmony until that truck released its air brakes. The pair flew off the porch only to be snapped back like two furry paddleballs. Within seconds Rich was hamstrung by the cat-leash trajectory and the wine sent airborne in a grapey arc of street theatre. Now twenty years wiser, we drink alone and our current cats get to go out whenever they damn well please.Image: Ralph Crane, Time-Life Pictures
I took Pandora out on a harness for the first time when the lid from the dumpster crashed down. Like Little Albert she was conditioned to think that the big bad world equated huge scary noises.
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