Greg finally reached underneath and pulled out another tiny gray kitten.
He sat back in the dirt with that kitten in his hands, shoulders sagging.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded too quickly.
“Fine.”
Something about that word bothered me.
But I had bigger questions.
“Inside. Now.”
Something about that word bothered me. But I had bigger questions.
***
The guest room looked completely different when I knew what I was looking at.
A small carrier sat near the wall.
Bottles.
Formula.
A digital kitchen scale.
Old towels.
A heating pad under half of a shallow box.
Printed instructions with the name of a local animal rescue at the top.
The guest room looked completely different when I knew what I was looking at.
I slowly turned toward Greg.
“How long?”
“I’ve never brought any home before,” he admitted. “The other nights, I took late feeding shifts at the rescue and slept here afterward so I wouldn’t wake you.”
“That’s not what I asked, Greg.”
“The other nights, I took late feeding shifts at the rescue and slept here afterward so I wouldn’t wake you.”
He looked down.
“I’ve been volunteering there about six months. The overnight shifts started three weeks ago.”
Six months.
