By Paul Bluestein
Companions Sleeping side by side, curled like commas on the couch, they are pauses in the run-on sentence of the day until a knock at the door awakens the instincts of generations of ancestors. Chance, sunlit and shiny black, runs, stretched out like an arrowed exclamation point! The GingerBear, all red fur and attitude, warns off the trespasser. They are companions, a pack of two. Sentries, standing guard against cats, grackles and the postman.
photo by Sinitta Leunen