Since my interaction with the only person I met, since I was evicted, that ever cared about me, I’d been able to find my own food. At least for a few weeks. Mice and birds taste much better than that stuff in a can or a bowl and they’re more fun to play with first. But, one day, I was too weak to catch any. I tried to remember where the person lived.
I thought I found the right nest, but I couldn’t see him and he never came out. I hopped up onto the window sill and looked in. He was there, but he couldn’t see me. So, I spoke to him. He looked. The noise in the place stopped all of a sudden. It was weird. He turned to me and reached his hand through the window to pet me. I tried to come in, but he shoved me out. He told me he wasn’t allowed to let me in.
I tried to tell him I wanted some food. I knew he cared because he fed me before, but he closed the windows to a lower level than I could squeeze through. He wasn’t going to listen to me, and I was sure he just forgot who I was, so I went around to the back of the building and climbed into his kitchen.
He was angry with me. I don’t know why. But, even still, he picked me up and put me on his back porch, told me to wait, and brought me a can of tuna and a bowl of milk. Maybe this wasn’t really his nest.
I didn’t want to bother him any longer, or get him in trouble, so I ate the food and left. I knew I’d see him again though and, when I did, I wanted to be nicer.