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I’m continuing to ride my mountain bike quite a bit, mostly in the mornings. Lately my reason for taking to the saddle has been to do drudgerous errands, such as delivering mail or a grocery list to the forestry cabin at the airstrip. Despite the routine purpose behind my outings I’ve had some exhilarating rides and have experienced increased enjoyment from the activity. 

The grassy slope overlooking the river seemed like a nice place to sit and read, so I exchanged my bike for a picnic table and dug out my book — Dickens, I think it was, but that’s not the point.

This is nothing like on TV. There are no witty exchanges, no Mozart or Metallica blaring from the stereo, no furrowing of brows if an instrument isn't placed in the palm just so. This surgical scene is more comparable to the roaring construction sites clustered outside the Royal Alexandra Hospital.

There’s no point trying to look cool when you’re standing in line at the bottle depot. This truth occurs to me in a blazing moment of clarity as I observe an upscale soccer mom trying to sip nonchalantly on the tip of her sunglasses while guarding a cart load of pristine empties. I decide to drop my own pretenses – out goes the belly and slouch go the shoulders.

So now the cat is peeing in the tub.

This is new. During his first 12 years of life, the cat’s modis operendi has been to duck outside or slip into his litter box. Now he’s suddenly discovered a new and better “third way.”