Wednesday, 04 February 2004 | Discovery

It happened in this order: I discovered him, looked for signs of life, and made a phone call. Then we had a photo shoot, I pet him on the head with a single finger, I said I was sorry, and I tossed him out the window by his long, sleek tail.

He landed on the ground, which is what I'd hoped—on the snow, actually, which covers the imported rectangles of grass in the backyard of the newly built (and vacant) condos behind me. I can still see him from my window, still bent in the shape of a smile and lying on his side.

Yesterday, the apartment building excitement came at 2 a.m. in the form of a loud, angry man who'd been locked out of his apartment during an argument. Or at least I think that's what happened; I saw none of it, and he was yelling in a language I don't know. But then, don't arguments in any language sound pretty much the same?