Much Ado about NOTHING

Things observed on a long walk yesterday, rendered here in present tense for literary effect:

A large animal bone -- much larger than a chicken bone -- lying in the street. More evidence of local Santeria?

A shabbily dressed man stands on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette. He has a large port-wine stain covering much of the left side of his face. He turns away as I approach, even though I'm careful not to stare.

"Moe's Bait & Tackle Shop". The letters of the sign (which you can see here) are painted on a small window. The shade is drawn behind the window, and in the bright sunlight the letters form shadows against it, creating a three-dimensional effect. An elderly man (I guess it's Moe) sits on a lawn chair on a driveway nearby, in front of a large, open garage, which I suppose is the "shop". He appears to be whittling.

I can see the partially constructed One World Trade Center (the so-called "Freedom Tower") from Riverview Park. It does not look like a building yet -- more like an ugly, deformed finger pointing skyward.

A young woman carrying what appears to be a bag of laundry and pushing a stroller. There's a baby in the stroller and a dog, a small terrier, tethered by its leash to the handle. A small child toddles along in front of the stroller. The dog tries to sniff my leg as I speed-walk past this group. "Benjamin, come here!" the woman commands. I realize she is addressing the dog, not the child in front. The dog's name is Benjamin. She's seen the movie Benji I'm guessing.

As I approach my house at the end of this ramble, I notice that in front of the door is a small, gray cat. I don't own a cat. It (he? she?) is lounging on the welcome mat with its legs curled up underneath its body. When it sees me, the cat looks startled for a second, then jumps up and leaps over the side of the porch and disappears up the alley. I'm a scary figure. To a small, gray cat.