BlackFoot (our local vagabond) has gotten into the apartment. I must usher him out, prodding him in the back with the cat toy. He reluctantly shuffles across a white area rug as I recoil from the sight and smells of his caked over grimy parts. Two kids at the top of the steps (and I ) yell at him when he's on the street. He gravels back at us pulling up on his pants. Grandma E. comes over, concerned. Now I feel like the entire apartment needs to be hosed down. Boopers is sound asleep on my bed. I worry that she should come in contact with Blackfoot's germs. We must lock the back door!