Lost Cat

I turned onto my street and stopped, hanging halfway out into the cross street. A deer was sharing my lane. It jogged ahead a few car lengths and I eased out of the intersection. The deer skipped into a neighbors yard and disappeared. I continued to the end of the block and pulled into the driveway. I turned off the ignition and my mind flashed back to one of the first nights after we’d moved in. A man had knocked on the door and said he was looking for his cat. Sitting in the car now, I realized that this man had actually been checking the house out and that he was probably the person who broke in during the windstorm a month later and took the computers.


The macaroni moon uncurls and dims to almost nothing before it flops again into the water — tonight, at the south tip of the bridge. Tomorrow it will come around behind the sun again and drop onto the Presidio.


I decided to go to yoga just as I was telling my wife that I would be going home to do my taxes after work. I pocketed my cell phone and spotted a red dot in the sideshoot of a poorly-pruned palm tree. I crossed the driveway to see it. It was a catsup orange ladybug, half the usual ladybug size, no speckles. I’d seen a black ladybug with red spots earlier in the day, but I couldn’t remember where. This morning with Benjie or at lunch? Landing on my fingertip or crossing my windshield at the gas station?

I lingered at work as my coworkers started getting chatty, then stepped out and walked around to the yoga studio next door. I found the meditation room and sat down, propping myself up with a block. Another student came in, rolled out her mat, and sat. Half an hour later, an older woman came in and turned up the lights. When she saw us she took the other student aside and told her something. The other student returned to her mat, rolled it up, and left. I sat for a few minutes longer before I got up and walked away.