Past middle-age, not too fast on his feet: it’s the end of a long week, and all he wants to do is get home, have something to eat and a drink. Filled with nothing but anticipation, he’s walking towards his patio door – from my balcony, I spot the problem before he does.
I watch him stop in his tracks as he realises that life has just handed him a lemon of note.
It takes about 20 seconds – time can be relative, and they’re long seconds – to size up every possible option.
I wonder if he’ll go away and just come back later, but he steels himself and, right before my eyes, he liberates his inner-ninja! A deft turn here, then a muscle-bunched bound, and he’s home free!
Watching a chubby and aged cat get past the sprinkler at his patio door.