I heard the kind of rustling in the bushes that I've come to associate with invisible things I really should not be afraid of.
Two deer strolled out from between our house and the West Duluth OG's place. Much like I used to ascribe complex thoughts and feelings to my stuffed animals, I was sure these deer were staring at me and thinking something. At the very least: "We do what we want." They continued in single file to the sidewalk, turned right and headed up the street with the lazy gait of runway models.
Then, more rustling from the same bushes. The deer turned to look. This time it's a cat. Black and white, well-fed and vocal. The deer watched the cat, the cat watched me, I wondered why I couldn't get the flash to work on my iPhone.
So we all just sat there. The deer both posed. The cat exuded a hostile neediness. Not wanting the stench of Free Cat Allowed to Roam all over my leggings, I tried to both trick the cat into leaving the yard and not make a sudden movement that would upset the deer. The word "Stampede" flashed in my head.
The cat turned around and moved down the street and the deer fell in behind him like they were willing to submit to his navigational whims.
I tried to remember if deer eat cats. Because they kind of looked into it, but that might have just been a look of friendship.
I explained this all in a text to Chuck, who responded: "You're so Disney."
"And then a bird landed on my shoulder," I added.