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.

Little boy for whom I was named shows what my mother hoped for
Goodbye, Daddy
My publishing schedule will be disrupted by projects in near future
Midlife becomes big crisis when our self-deception stops working
Dear Donald Trump: Want a deal? You can buy my transcripts cheap
Free tires for a stranger? We forget all the people doing good
Booing Ron Paul evidence that voters don’t want honest conversation
I can’t find the balance between expecting too much and too little