Driving through the hills above El Cerrito yesterday, trying to get Miles to fall asleep. Mostly posh neighborhoods up there, great views, but every now and then you hit a trashy patch. Suddenly I found myself stopped in the middle of the street in front of a house with a half-rebuilt Mustang in the driveway, a washing machine rotting in the front yard. Staring at a 4′ x 6′ scrap of plywood propped up in the front yard, on which was painted (in a somewhat shaky hand):
WHOEVER IS THE BITCH OR BASTARD WHO LEFT THE PINK CROSS YOUR HEART BRA IN MY LIVING ROOM, YOU PROBABLY SHOT MY CAT.
One of those moments I curse myself for not keeping a camera on me at all times.