Ok ... This is the story of Puss, our erstwhile home invader, abandoned twice and an opportunistic survivor. Dear Puss, if we didn't have cats of our own, we would have taken you in. Be safe, wherever you are.
Hello, my name is Puss. I live on a quiet suburban street full of nooks and crannies to explore and the occasional vehicle to dodge. I once had a family that fed and cared for me. Those were happy days when my belly was full up with fishy treats and gentle rubs.
Then one day my world turned on its head and I came home from a happy day of wandering to the unfamiliar smell of an empty house. I stood in the driveway and cried out for hours on end, desperately yearning for the comforting sound of my name being called in for dinner, the familiar clink of spoon against metal can, the possessive scratch of fingers at the back of my ears. But after several days of pining, I had to admit defeat.
Purely out of necessity I resigned myself to the life of a stray and took to stealing food wherever and whenever I could, drinking out of puddles after a shower of rain. Friendly pats now turned into stomping feet and the occasional kick of a heel. I've lost a bit of weight and my once proud coat of fur is dull and straggly. But I've managed to survive ... so far.
I miss the warmth of a cosy fire when its cold and the dull breeze of an open window when its hot, but most of all I miss the sense of belonging I was lucky enough to enjoy not so very long ago. I try not to ask why, but I often wonder what I did wrong. But thats my lot and I think its time to give up now.