The Cats

Every morning I face the same challenge; a veritable dance of death. When I stumble my way down the hall--rather in the manner of a stunned moose--toward the shower, I do so with the constant company of danger. As I go down the hall I wonder exactly how my end will come? Will my end come from a sideways tumble down the stairs? Perhaps a sudden heart attack? Maybe it will just cut off my legs and maul me?

No matter where they were three minutes before, there is almost always a cat sprinting to position itself beneath my raised foot.

I say: there is danger in the morning. As surely as there are cats; there is danger.

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