somehow you can tell even if he's behind you when mister has ice paw. like in the movies when a figure stands immobile emitting a soft-pulse signal in a rushing stream of activity, though the point itself was calm and still. everything seems to draw the attention to the posture of arrested motion. i turn and see him paw raised balanced in patience for me to pry the ice from between his upraised tender pads. he has the quality of inwardness in his furry body, his black eyes in his white face, that pulls you in, or back from mental wandering.
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