Early this morning, while I was doing my home health aide parttime job for a 92-year old man in Harlem, we happened to pass by a nearby park. As my patient was busily sunning himself, I saw 2 postings in laminated plastic tied on the chicken wire fence in one portion of the park that got my curiosity. Try to read more clearly what the other photo says. Somewhat, my heart throbbed for the shock and pain of losing one’s loved one, moreso, due to an accident in this case. The owner and the pet looked happy together in the first photo. I could only feel how badly the owner must have been missing terribly “Mushy,” a dog that died due to a stray voltage over a year ago. In an instant, such unexpected and sudden death could occur, anywhere, for some unknown reason at all. I took the shots using my celfone, and got ideas on how to come up with more materials about a posting in my mind then, on photoshots I’ve made on cats I’ve met and whose owners I happen to know as well. Well, for now, these cats, won’t be named here. But I can assure you how much pleasure and fun these animals provide the owners. I’m happy these animals are very much around.
The park looked so serene that very moment; I took note of the electric pole with wires, close to the 2 laminated postings, which reminded me of the sudden death of a well-loved, healthy looking dog. I saw a man letting his black hairy dog play and run on the grounds, and happily taking reign all over the designated area, with written instructions for owners to always have their dogs on leash while in the park. A softball team’s practicing a game from a distance. Some men were just seated on the benches with distances from one another, as they watch the practice game. There’s a small crowd ready to cheer up the teams. A friendly couple’s just lazily reading the papers, as the man even made some puffs on his cigar and the woman pores on the details of the pages. There are a number of interesting old-looking apartment buildings not taller than 7 storeys surrounding the park. I looked at my patient; he’s gazing on what’s in front of him at the moment. He’s enjoying the experience of being in the park, which he agreed to exploring more closely the first time this morning (unlike previous occasions when he’d be contented to be just at the periphery). I looked at the sun, and thought on how fortunate we humans can be. It was then I realized that it’s time for us to go.
{Alberto Giacometti’s 
Moving On 