Sonny has never had a real home. For all of his relatively short life, he’s lived on the street where I live. For most of his life, another neighbor fed him so he wouldn’t starve. She also had him neutered and got him shots. But she and her husband moved a month or so ago, so I’ve taken over feeding him. He doesn’t need just another meal. He needs a real home.
My former neighbor and her husband have seven cats of their own, so they couldn’t take yet another. Sonny and another one they called Tommy were among the strays they regularly fed. When they moved, they couldn’t take them because the neighborhood where they bought their new house has a strict covenant against outdoor animals who roam free. The best she could do was continue to buy food for them — and leave it with me.

Death of classmate from past feels like a reminder to change my life
Do great dreams really come true or do they just serve to haunt us?
Girl to mom after parents fight: ‘Mom, is this what love will be?’
NOTEBOOK: If results confuse Paul’s aides, how competent are they?
I feel anger toward those who casually resent life I wish I had
Briefly: Comic perfectly captured what I wrote about this weekend
Lucy’s fun afternoon at my office reminds me that work needs play