It's the evening dog walk. The moon is a fat gibbous. I can almost pluck it from the sky and bite into it - moon juices dripping from the corners of my mouth. It shines a diffused light through the sky and onto the pavement of West Hollywood streets - lined with tall regal Palms. I look up into that brightly lit starry sky, dark palms silhouetted.
Mr Dog stops to sniff every 5 feet. After four blocks, this gets tiresome, but I indulge him. I look up at the sky. I look into my neighbor's windows. A shadow of a man picking up something in the back of his driveway, a moment later, the cat silhouetted in the window of the same house tucks its head, stops and I imagine stares out at me and then bobs her head again, I imagine licking her paw.
A few houses down, Mr Dog stops to sniff for the 28th time and I notice images on a screen above a fireplace in the house in front of me. I stop to watch. It's animation. I recogonize it. The Fox and the Hound. I look at the room. The screen is situated above an ornate mantle. I enjoy that - I have one in my home too. I try to see who is watching this children's movie at 10:30pm. I notice a wine bottle. I smile. I like the idea of an adult, drinking wine watching this movie on a Monday night in West Hollywood under a fat waning moon. I'd join them.
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