Where I come from there are no
There is the ground and the sky
our feet and our hands.
The human with the short, white, curly hair had the milk and tuna. The cat liked that. A few doors down, at the back of the house with the dog with the sausage body and the stumpy legs, pristine water and delectable wet food usually sat on the porch. The cat liked that too. It could out-jog the sausage dog and the human whenever they heard the bowl travelling across the wood and made a fuss. The cat would casually jump up on the grey fence, look back with a tail-flick, and strut away back home.