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“Can he stay with you then?” he asks. After all, she didn’t take him in earlier. She gave him some food and a purple collar and left him outside.

“No. Shamus won’t allow that.” Shamus is one of her wimp cats that runs away the second a stranger sets foot in her apartment.

“I can’t put up with the screaming and the shitting.”

“Oh well. I guess I understand.” She leaves. Alex flops into bed and everything goes black.

The doorbell’s ringing. Alex looks at the red numbers on the clock. 12:30. He staggers to the door.

“Just a minute,” he yells. His shorts won’t zip up. Where’s the zipper? This isn’t right. He steps out of them and turn them around. Next, a shirt. He buttons a button. He doesn’t know if he aligned it right. The bell rings again.

“Just a minute!”

It’s the catwoman. “Guess who I found!” she says. A smile creases her face and she bobs her head back and forth. Alex knows she’s insane.

“Can we come in?” The cat runs into the kitchen and sprays the refrigerator.

“Meow,” he says. Alex ignores him. The catlady follows.

“Isn’t it great!” she says. I know she’s been looking for the little bastard for almost two hours, just so she could come over here to wake me up.

“Can we give him some of the dry food!” Every time she asks a question it’s not a question. She is the cheerleader of cats.

Hanrammrrunwrummann,” he grunts. He’s not sure what it means or what he’s trying to say. She takes it as a yes. She grabs a dish from the counter and produces a half-empty can of Comfy Kitten Chow from god knows where and plops it on the dish. Alex grabs the bag of dry food from the fridge. The fridge reeks of piss. It’s all over the door. He drops the bag on the counter and heads for the bathroom and a bar of soap. He sees her mashing the wet food into a patty with her fingers.

“Gross,” he says.