The cat used to be scared of the washing machine. When I first brought him here, he would freak out, and run off into the kitchen or living room, when I turned it on.

Javi, my older dog, has runny poop, today, I see as I am sitting out here in the back yard trying to come up with a poem or two. I have had runny poop all day long myself. I had chicken salad for lunch; Javi had dog food for breakfast. Is there a correlation?

Anyway, Cobain, our cat, no longer runs from the washing machine. We put his food up on the clothes drier, so that the dogs won't get it, and, now, I can have both the washer and the drier running, and Mr. Cat will jump up and happily eat his food. He still hasn't figured out the garage door, though, and why it makes so much noise. He runs from it, when I push the button, to raise or lower it, which is a good thing as we are trying to keep him inside in his new abode, and not let him prowl the neighborhood, as he did back in the city.
.......

Moving can stir memories. I just pulled a baseball out of the newspaper that it was wrapped in, and looking at that baseball took me back eight years, or so, to a time when my son was younger and was playing organized youth baseball. The ball was signed and dated, by my son. I think that it was the first baseball that he ever hit over the fence. It seems like just yesterday that I was sitting in the bleachers watching him run around the bases and field balls and, now, he's going off to college in just weeks.

Time waits for no poet.