I was working at my desk on a recent Saturday afternoon when I noticed two cat ears poke above the surface of the desk. Then there were two intense little green eyes staring at me.
Bessie and her sister, Molly, are feral girls who I took in about seven years ago. They’re both tiny, weighing slightly less than five pounds. Bessie has only three legs and she’s never gotten over the fears she brought with her from that early life on the streets.
She runs if I get too close. It’s an ordeal if I have to touch her for medication or flea treatment. If I’m able to catch her to pick her up, I can feel her tiny heart beating very fast with fear.
Every now and then, it seems as though Bessie might get over some of her fears and trust me, at least a little. This was one of those times. She was sticking her tiny head over the edge of my desk and she seemed to be thinking of coming up onto the desk to see me.
She just stood there, though, and watched me.
Although I was able to snap a quick picture, she decided the risk was too great to trust me. She jumped back down and left the scary human alone. That wasn’t going to be the day when she got over her fears and took the chance of trusting me.

My bad teen poetry suggests I’ve always hungered for missing love
Check out Aya Katz’s interview with me about art and culture
It’s hard to ‘get over it’ if pain of abuse turns to rage against self
Well, if you really want to know, this is what I’m still looking for
‘Conservative’ GOP governors forget principles when their state involved
He couldn’t mold her into himself, but my dad broke Mother’s spirit
Will a mechanical body allow you to live forever in a few decades?
The hole is always there, but I foolishly hope it’ll just go away
What do you do when it feels as though your entire world is over?