There’s that scrabble of tiny feet again. Late at night in my turtle bus bed I lie head held stiff, an inch above the pillow. Scritchy-scratch. Houdini’s back. Over the past few days he’s grown bolder, daring to be seen in scuttle from shelf to door. He nibbles fruit, neat small bites in the morning …

Every few minutes I hear the gentle whoosh of the SkyTrain, whistling through the early evening silence. The SkyTrain is 1km from my home, and I’ve never heard it from here before. Normally the city’s drone smothers it out. A  small flock of early goldfinches gathers in the crabapple tree to pick at the buds, …

Yesterday I found two things: First, a fine old ten-speed bike in good shape, gently leaned against a dumpster. Clearly not stolen or for trash. My first instinct as a bike person was to wheel it home or to the community bike shop, but on consideration, I left it there. It was Christmas Eve day, …

“My husband just walked in, told the dog how cute he is, and how much he loves him. Held his face in his hands, stared into his eyes, and gave him forehead kisses. Then left the room. I’m sitting right next to the dog.” This showed up as a random retweet on my Twitter feed …