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.

You can’t see inside my heart, but my words invite you to know me
At life’s end, who we’ve loved will matter more than what we’ve owned
I don’t know how to amuse you into taking your future seriously
Letting go of dead dreams can lead to path you need to follow
They won’t listen to arguments; they might listen to honest art
I’m more afraid of sanctimonious smart people than of stupid people
Penn & Teller: ‘Carny trash’ who became stars with original art
Why are we uncomfortable when other people aren’t much like us?