A friend moved into the city from a more rural setting. Life was hard, the adjustment was not easy. He wondered how he would go on.
No more garden.
No more greenery.
And his little pigeonhole of an apartment on the 7th floor.
He often stared down at the pavement below, despondent.
But he pulled out of it. He adjusted. Eventually.
His cat, however, was not so lucky. That creature couldn't make the adjustment, and one day, when he could take it no more, off the ledge he jumped.
And the old saying about a cat having nine lives... it isn't true.