Saturday, November 10, 2012
Standing at the kitchen sink, I hear a rumbling shudder.
What in the world?
No heavy trucks drive in this neighborhood. No delivery trucks start rounds at 6 AM.
Did the closet rod collapse upstairs? Again?
Next, I hear a long scratching sound.
Sigh. It's Bogie.
First, he planted his shoulder against the hall wall with a resounding thud. Then he dragged his head and shoulder along the length of the wall, his collar scratching against the drywall.
He's like a cat rubbing itself against the furniture. Only ten times bigger.