LIKE CAKE TO THE HUNGRY

Dogs, cats, and pigeons like me. The dog and cat thing I already knew. The pigeon thing is something I only recently became aware of, when a pigeon landed on my knee in a park, and would not leave. Every time the bird slid off, because my smooth textured pants did not provide a surface to grip, it flew up and landed in the exact same spot ......
And slid off again. After a few further attempts, it sat next to me on the bench and happily scratched itself.

I do not find this disconcerting at all. If it had been a street person doing exactly the same thing, it would have been extremely unwelcome, but a small filthy feathered friend acting like this is quite okay.
Its companions did not fear me either.
One perched on my shoulder.

They came back several times in the next half hour.
When the time came, I was loathe to leave.


When little kids do stuff like that, it's because to them I look like a harmless old cooz, and they probably doubt that I can effectively chase after them if they poke me with a broom handle. One cannot assume such evil conspiritoriality from a bird. For one thing, a broom handle is something they might sit upon if it were angled just right -- unlike, for instance, a human knee clad in smooth pants -- and for another, their minds do not think that way.

As I see it, the only benefit to little children is that one does not have to worry about them defecating on one's clothes beyond a certain age.
Unfortunately, with birds it's different.




My old friend on Stockton Street came out to be petted. He lives in a store where they sell dried seafood and herbal stuff, along with odd ingredients like monkey head mushrooms and tofu twig. When I asked what his name was, the shop lady said she didn't know.
Perhaps they simple call him 'cat'.

I had not seen him for several months, and I feared that he had passed away. Old animals do that. But I'm happy to see that he is still with us, and enjoying the warmer weather.

For a scruffy old chap he has the sweetest temper.
Just keep scratching my head, smelly human.
Feel free to smoke that stinky pipe.
But keep petting me.



The dogs came today. They recognize me as the source of biscuit.
After just one they are certain that I am biscuit dude.
They are simple minded, and trusting.



Perhaps I should start carrying snacks in my pocket for the birds and cats on my days off. The birds would make suitable snacks for the cats, one supposes, but it seems kinder to keep them apart. Sometimes one set of friends should never be introduced to another set.

With such personality-differences, feathers might fly.


Possibly I smell warm, bestial, and comforting.
That doesn't explain the kids, though.

I am not a nice person.

Boo.




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