Cats and Dogs in Isolation
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WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
From my youth up I never liked the city.
I never forgot the mountains where I was born.
The world caught me and harnessed me
And drove me through dust, thirty years away from home.
Migratory birds return to the same tree.
Fish find their way back to the pools where they were hatched.
I have been over the whole country,
And I have come back at last to the garden of my childhood.
My farm is only ten acres.
The farm house has eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows shade the back garden.
Peach trees stand by the front door.
The village is out of sight.
You can hear dogs bark in the alleys,
And cocks crow in the mulberry trees.
When you come through the gate into the court
You will find no dust or mess.
Peace and quiet live in every room.
I am content to stay here the rest of my life.
At last I have found myself.
— Tao Yuan Ming (Tao Qian) Chinese, 365-427
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Dear Diary,
Casey here again in Blue State Hell. How I miss baseball . . . the Authority has tried to amuse me by replaying all 11 games of the 1980 and 2008 World Series, but it’s not the same as watching the Authority’s team throw the third season in a row straight into the litter box. Meanwhile I compensate by climbing up and down the kitchen foul pole, throwing up hairballs in the Other Cat’s dugout, and stealing signs from the dog next door when his Authority takes him out for a walk.
The local mayor has not only put the city on lockdown but has decreed that it is now illegal to go outside without a “face covering.” I suggested that my Authority wear a catcher’s mask for trips to the supermarket, but as the mayor has even less of a sense of humor than a major league umpire, the John Wayne bandanna will have to do for now.
At least I don’t have to worry about Mr. Met bringing the New York bug to my home base. Casey, out.