The Tribe of Tiger

Hankie had a lot of new territory to explore when we moved to Phoenix. The desert was a welcome mystery for him.

Here he is, looking very much like a member of the tiger family, and filled with determination about letting nothing stand in the way of his safari.

Notice his purple leash and harness. I started taking him outside with that years and years ago. At first he protested. Flopped himself down onto the ground like a collapsed paratrooper. Like a boneless chicken. No way. No way am I wearing this. I was like the uncool mom trying to get him to wear a dickey for his class picture.

Then he finally got bored with the melodrama and could not resist the charms of the weeds and sticks and butterflies and the maddening urine of the interlopers who had passed by. Very quickly he fell in love with the purple leash. I could shake it gently next to him when he was in a deep sleep and he'd wake up and hurry to the door.

During my last 4 years in Illinois, I had a house on a slowly-traveled side street, and when the weather was warm, occasionally someone would drive by with their windows down and look at us in the front yard. The crazy chick and her cat on a leash. And their laughter would pour out of the car. Was it with us or at us? Neither of us gave a shit. We were relishing life.