May 3, 1982. This white cat would drive me insane if I had to live in the same apartment with it under my feet, rubbing against my leg, rolling on its back in front of me, leaping up on the table to paw at the typewriter. He's on top of the TV, he's on the chopping block, he's in the sink,he's pawing the telephone.
I am leaning against the sideboard having a drink. I think he is outside, then he jumps onto the sink and sticks his face an inch from mine. Finally I put him out and close the door...like an Arab boy who knows he is being naughty knows you will put him out sooner or later. No fuss, he just goes, fades down an alley in the gathering dusk and whisk, he is gone, leaving me feeling vaguely guilty.
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