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I'd been so tickled the first time he sauntered down the fire escape and through my window. Now, I didn’t know what I’d do without him. He was even better than a tub of Blue Bell ice cream—that was how he’d gotten his name—the name I’d given him. At this point, his original owners were irrelevant. As far as I was concerned, they’d surrendered him when they stopped caring if he came home. Home. God, I wanted a home again. I missed knowing my neighbors and hanging pictures on the walls and having friends over. Shoot, just having friends would be amazing. I’d been meticulous about keeping people at bay wherever I lived. My guilty conscience about hurting people when I left demanded I not form attachments. I desperately missed having a support network. And on top of that, I liked the job I’d
- Writer
