As I planned my Listening Walks for the Holy Week, I remembered this blog post that I read a few months ago. I loved the way Pam weaved the stories about her neighbors around a walk with her dog. I’m delighted to reblog this post today on Reblog Monday.
I clip the leash onto the collar of my wacky little dog, Greta, and pull open the back door. Greta stiffens, and I look down to see Maxie, the new mayor of the neighborhood, standing expectantly outside the storm door.
Maxie is a black cat with a priest’s collar; his head is the size and shape of a squashed softball. He is sleek and talkative. He waits in the ivy, under the shrubs that line the drive, when I come home. As soon as I open the car door, he starts his approach, spouting a long line of complaints: Yowlyowlmewwwwrrrryowlyou!MEW.
He always ends decisively, waiting for a response.
I usually give him a little piece of frozen turkey from a baggie in the freezer; he accepts this, but seems none too thrilled.
Max lives with the Next-to-Newest Neighbors across the street–a…
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