This is our cat. She is insane. I buy her food at a very large store at the mall that sells everything you would need for a pet of any size. If the store were five feet square and only sold the brand of cat food our cat prefers to eat and the brand of litter she prefers to poop on, that would be fine with me.
The cat food store (with unnecessary food, etc., for other pets) was previously a video store. I bought a lot of Thomas the Tank Engine and Dora the Explorer and Spongebob DVDs there.
As that store was going out of business, which I considered wrenchingly sad, for next to nothing I snagged a reduced-price copy of Hard Core Logo and a few other favourites, but that was small comfort. Our kids' earliest memories of staring at a TV screen came from that store.
Outside the video/catfood store there's a red-painted steel helix bolted to the sidewalk. It's meant to be a bike rack. It works. I once, back in the video days, locked my bike there for fifteen minutes (I was actually going to Subway) and no one stole it. These days, outside the catfood place, almost never is a bicycle attached to it, but to be fair that was probably also the case back in the old video store days. Apart from mine, I don't think I ever saw a locked bike.
Our son is now a tall teenager. Back in the sweet, Thomas the Tank Engine days of memory, when he was about three years old, when I would take him to the video store (which I would never have imagined might disappear and many months later reemerge as a catfood store, or more to the point that I would ever again be sharing my house with a cat), we would pause outside at the red helix and he would put his hand at one end, where it was bolted to the sidewalk, and then run his hand, loop-de-loop around until he had reached the other end.
He would say, "I did it!"
I would say, "Yes you did"
He would say, "What did I do?"