Thomas wasn’t supposed to come live with me. He was supposed to go live on a farm. If a woman had done what she had said she was going to do, he never would have come home with me. He would have spent time chasing bugs and mice on a farm. Who knows? All I know is I’m glad it worked out as it did.
I first saw a little kitten hanging around outside a hair salon a few blocks from my house. I assumed he belonged to someone, but I didn’t see anyone to ask. The place where he stayed was right next to a busy road and it was a block away from a busy highway. So it wasn’t a safe place for a kitten.
I finally got the chance to ask someone after a few days. The salon was closed, but one of the haircutters was there and happened to step outside as I was passing by. She said he had been there for a couple of weeks, but nobody knew anything about him other than that he was skinny and reasonably friendly. We talked about it for a little while and she decided she was going to take him to live at someone’s farm. She seemed sincere, so I assumed he was going to have a home. She said she was going to take him the next day.

Competent, beautiful girl mirrors what I’d love to have in daughter
Anarchist vs. minarchist debate misses the shift to post-statist world
Barack Obama’s effort to imitate FDR’s ’36 campaign full of danger
I can’t tell truth about my father unless I dig for truth about myself
How we live our lives can allow us to redeem a dark family history
My old fear of looking foolish is strong incentive to do good work
Certainty leaves us unwilling to change beliefs when we’re wrong