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My Human

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Once I got used to my new home, I got used to my new human. Ever since father died, I had avoided the idea of finding shelter with a human.

But I never thought I’d find living with a human to be so weird.

There were good things.

He fed me tuna every morning. It tasted good. Better than all the garbage and leftovers I used to have to scrounge for.

The room was always cold, but the bed was comfy and when it was especially cold I liked to bask in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. Sometimes he’d even wrap me in the covers, so tight I almost couldn’t breathe, but it kept me warm during the night.

But there were strange things too.

My human was so fragile. He would come home sometimes covered in blood, his knuckles red or his skin flushed pink and I would sometimes lick his fingers clean. He always smiled at me when I did.

Sometimes I would hear him screaming and yelling in his sleep. Once one of his hands flew out and hit me right off the bed. It hurt when I landed, but he seemed upset when I jumped back on the bed so I forgave him for it.

Some days he muttered a lot and made strange faces and plotted. Other days he was relaxed and slept all day, usually a day after he came home all bloody. Other times he’d stay out for a long time, sometimes days, before coming home all clean and smelling sharp and awful. Those days I hated the most, because my human never seemed to remember I was there. He’d forget to feed me and stare at the wall. But he always made up for it by feeding me a lot the next day.

It was weird, living with my human, but it was safer than the streets and I was old. I knew I didn’t have that many years left. I had lived far longer than my father, but my legs were starting to go bad, and my hearing too, and I couldn’t bend as well to get the knotted fur on my back like I used to. My human would brush me sometimes when he wasn’t staring at the wall, or coming home bloody, or gone for many days. It always felt good.

It might have not been what my father had wanted for me, but, when my time came, I could tell him that it wasn’t all bad.