This is the boot, the boot that protects me when I shower It keeps the foot dry until the stitches come out. It is pumped up like a bicycle tire; then it seals shut directly under the knee.
This is the cat who sensed the boot, and ducked and weaved, like Muhammad Ali. He is blind in the right eye, with 30% vision in the left. His world is dominated by smells and sounds more than sight, even more than the average cat. His name is Quincy.
This is the cat who went to check on the boot after I had hung it up to dry.
His name is Samson. He is Quincy’s best friend. He has checked the bathtub thoroughly and believes the coast is clear.
Quincy continues to scour the bedroom and bathroom, thinking to himself: Where is that boot? Will it end civilization as we know it? How can I be sure we are now safe from it and that it shall not reappear?
Quincy says, “This is my Fortress of Contemplation, my safe house, my shield against all harm. I will be safe here until the boot returns.”
Quincy and Samson in conference, contemplating their fate and that of the missing boot.
Let me leave you with this kernel of wisdom: Cats who live in trash cans should not throw bones.
All photos (except for the boot) by Erica Herd and L.E. Swenson.