Urban unnaturalist (three cats)

0. A house being remodeled, part of the small front yard has been dug up and piled against a temporary hurricane fence. Bare bulbs lie topsy-turvy in the drying dirt; as i wonder if i should come back later to steal some of this refuse, the hispanic dude working on the house stares down at me and i flee.

1. The cat's head is on crooked, turned slightly to the right as if he's listening. He has the most fucked-up stubtail i've ever seen and a bare patch on his flank, but he's friendly, doesn't want me to leave, and has a nametag that reads FIEND.

2. Sunny sidewalk, he's sitting pale and rigid. From half a block away i cat-twitter at him but he doesn't react. I squat down beside him; from his startle and skitter when he turns his head, i think he must be deaf. No collar, but a worn ring where he must have worn a collar once. His narrowness makes him seem long, his hips sharp little points under my hands. I ask the mail lady whether she knows if this cat belongs to anyone in the neighborhood, but she does not. His right eye squints and there's something wrong with his lower lip, but he looks like a gentleman fallen on hard times and i wonder if he'll survive the month.

3. As i'm trying to gain the trust of the sleek black cat in the underbrush, his quarry rustles near my feet. A grey bird - small for a robin? hops out of the weeds. It seems immature. I'm on my way to work, i don't know what to do. I can't pick up the bird and it can't fly. You're in big trouble, little bird. I clap at the cat to make it run off while the bird makes for some scant cover. This will delay the pounce at least until i've rounded the corner. There's something strange about looking at an animal that you know will be dead soon.

So i lied. These stories are all direct allegories of the spiritual lives of people i know. Shhh.