It was about a year after my first experience at the glory hole that I learned that I was wrong. Or, I guess that is the wrong way to put it. I didn't know at the time that my carefully constructed life was about to collapse (or to rise again from the ashes) but that's what was about to happen.
It was a Wednesday I recall. It had been nearly three weeks since the last time I'd been to the pet shop. I had been busy with work and, furthermore, had actually been in a relatively good mood. So I hadn't felt the need to go. But that Wednesday, it was like all the frustration and isolation I'd been owed for three weeks decided to hit me all at once.
It started in the morning. My tire had gone flat during the night and I hadn't noticed until I was about a mile from my house. I pulled over to put
