...picked up on a long walk and carried home in your pocket
Thursday, June 30
Last night there was yowling in the spaces between my dreams. This morning I find opaque circles of crimson on the tiles near the cat-flap, where Fatty watched his nemesis through the scratched plastic and dripped liquid from a hole in his neck. His fur is matted, and when I try to cut it away with nail scissors it releases a cloud of dark dried-blood dust.