(Growing Equals Learning, and Vice Versa…)
It dawned on me last night, as I was walking the dog around the neighborhood at 9pm, that I can’t go back to having a cat. I like cats, I have a soft spot for cats, and I love seeing bodega cats; they are my favorites. But I’m a dog person now. And it comes down to litter boxes. I prefer to have my animal friend relieve themselves on the street, or on occasion, in neighbor’s yard. I am totally fine with having green plastic bags on me to pick up poop. But the idea of having a box in my home that I have to clean excrement and clumping pee out of daily is a task that I never want to return to. This is not a knock against cats – it’s just that I don’t want to do that chore anymore. So, my lot is now thrown in with dogs.
I still like living in New York. After everything that we have gone through these past three years, I still like this town. Wednesday and Thursday, I had to run errands all over Manhattan – from Harlem to the Battery, and I still find this place fascinating and thrilling, and dirty and gross, dangerous and wonderful. I fear that I might become one of those people who cannot function when away from the City. That I will be locked in a perpetual low-grade orbit of this place, never to break free.
If my office is the couch, then I need a better couch.
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