AT HOME

Initially, I was admittedly resistant to the idea of taking MOMO out in public. I was content to notice the ways in which her presence activated my small apartment. Even though she was quite still and silent, her quiet “being” was unmistakable. Her cocked head gave the impression that she was listening. When I returned home, I was invariably momentarily startled by her, sitting on the couch or at the table. Oddly, it did feel as if someone was waiting for me. Often, from the corner of my eye, I found myself doing “retakes” of her, as if she had made some type of slight movement. She became, as I had hoped, a comfortable source of solace. I could watch the news enveloped in her cushy goodness, or throw my leg over her ample body as I slept. She required no attention and was ever available.