Felines strike me as (on the whole) delicate creatures. They are picky, aloof and sometimes very cuddly; laying across your newspaper, swiping at hanging strings as you prepare for the day – they are a soft ball of not-so-grown kittenhood, the semblance of adolescent behavior always intact. In contrast to their canine counterpart, whom I always imagine sniffing and licking and drooling (I do love dogs, but I can’t seem to remove the imagery) a cat’s paws look soft, more like a quiet invitation to “follow me” than a stomping rollop that says “I WAS HERE.”
Then I realized…holy squishy cat, those tiny paws have claws and are a wee bit mashed into the concrete. No cat would step in wet cement then run around in it, they’re not that oblivious.
NO SAINTS IN L.A. 