It and other trophies are now dusted only when his cat, Spike, brushes against them. Then, Spike hops onto the card table. Steve's gaze moves from the bust to Spike. Steve smiles, gently strokes Spike's head. I found him at a shelter in Northeast Philadelphia.
Spike then strolls to the trophies.
He weaves in and out of them, in and out, his fluffy tail grazing the bust. Dust flutters into the air. Spike continues to weave in and out, in and out. Then Spike jumps to the floor. The old star looks away.