This morning I came home to the Gramercy Bunker after not being there for four days. My little apartment is in a dark nook in the basement, and you really have to know it's there to find it.
So why was there a bag of cat food at my door?
Granted at one point I had a cat, a wonderful gray beast named Pookie the Fearless. Alas, Pookie died of pancreatic cancer in December. When he lived with me I used to let him roam the basement halls when I did laundry. He was a friendly guy and would flirt with the other residents.
That still does not explain why there was a half full bag of Science Diet at my front door this morning. I was baffled, but went on with my errands.
