Bessie has lived her entire life in fear.
Well, maybe that’s not entirely correct, but she’s at least lived her life just on the edge of fear. She can go from relaxed and happy to tense and terrified in a split second. She’s not just scared of people who might try to hurt her. She’s even scared of the one person in the world who’s fed her and taken care of her for two and a half years — me.
I wrote about Bessie’s sister, Molly, last week. You can read that story if you’d like, because most of it applied to Bessie, too.

Loving a depressed person means holding tightly on trips through hell
My own question now faced me: ‘Would a healthy person do that?’
A year later, late-night phone call and suicide threat still echo in me
Appeals to ‘common sense’ are frequently excuses to avoid thinking
Friday’s article will be delayed
Only through death of empires can something new take their places
Union rules protect pepper-spraying cop from the firing he deserves
Walls built to protect heart keep others from giving what we need