The Story of the Nearly-Dead Pigeon

My manager has some trouble with English, but his handwriting is great.
"A person's will is more important than his age." This poster is part of a movement to push the socially accepted retirement age to 70. And that's what the Japanese are going to have to do- that or have more babies. I love the picture.

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So, the story of the Nearly-Dead Pigeon. Last week I was jaunting my usual jaunt along the lovely Yagami river. I passed the Hobo Bridge, and caught my first glimpse of one of the two homeless guys who live under it: a squat, thickly built man with dark skin and a round stubbly face. He was smoking on the riverbank.
Then I came to the fenced-off edge of the local water purification facility. I don't know if it's because I live so close to a treatment plant, but the tapwater here is quite good. Anyway, I know this area very well because it is home to a whole community of cats- at least 16 in all. On this day, I caught sight of twelve of them or so as they lazed about in the fair weather. A sign hung on the fence of the home on my left, written in black permanent marker on a badly weathered piece of foam. Mysteriously surrounded at the edges by the marks of a small child's teeth, it read "do NOT feed the cats!" However, this sign was apparently as thoroughly disregarded as the "no bicycle parking" signs in front of the station, since the ground was littered with empty cans of cat food. For every group of homeless cats in this country, there is a kind old lady and a kind old man to feed them in the course of their morning walk. As a result their fur was sleek and their eyes clear. Healthy cats. Many of them were just kittens a few months ago.

I paused to watch the cats, for a time. Men were fishing from both banks of the river, and one narrowly lost a sizable carp as he struggled to reel it in. I noticed a black tomcat, creeping low behind the grass toward a burbling flock of pigeons. He emerged from behind the cover of the grass, drawing nearer and nearer to the birds, head down, movements smooth and compact. Most of the birds saw him as soon as he left his cover and fluttered off, but two or three of them were too preoccupied with pecking around for food to notice. The cat snuck in close behind one of them- I had never even seen a cat even get this close to a bird before. The cat was no more than four feet away when the pigeon finally realized its peril and took to the air in a whirl of feathers and fear, but the cat leapt for all it was worth and reached for the bird with its claws outstretched.
It took me a moment to realize that the cat had actually caught the pigeon. But when I understood what I had happened, I got too excited and shouted "holy damn!" loud enough to startle the cat. The pigeon flew off, and the cat slunk away, smooth and cool, pasted with downy grey feathers. Sorry cat! I feel I was to blame.

So yes! Dinner tonight is going to be salmon risotto, and I believe that afterward I will recline in my swivel chair and sip a Jack on the Rocks while watching videos of snowplow trains and looking at pictures of Bullet Owl. Also this: I am Master of My Fate. Because that's how I spend my Friday evenings these days.