When I was in college, I lived in a house a few blocks from campus which was an absolute dump: cigarette burns on the furniture, low-pile carpet stained with who and god knows what, and a kitchen so disgusting we’d only go in there to get beer, which I had had more than a few of that night.

I was alone in the living room when I heard a sound coming from outside and got up off the couch to investigate. It was dark and it was night and I was drunk on the front porch and wouldn’t you know it a little critter came right on up to me--a tiny grey kitten. I was worried it might have fleas, and so didn’t touch it or let it into the house, but it sure did seem hungry so I went inside to find something for it to eat.

My roommates and I didn’t keep much on hand in the way of food back then, considering most of our calories came from Tecate and Jimmy John’s, but I did find a can of baked beans in the back of a cupboard and dumped them into a little bowl which I put on the porch for the cat.

It could have been the bits of bacon in there, but that scrawny little kitten gobbled it right up. A can of beans! After eating, it seemed grateful, and I sat with it there on the front porch awhile before going back inside and shutting the door behind me.

As I laid in bed I could hear the tiny creature meow and meow and miaow. I felt like we were both lonely, on opposite sides of the wall. I fell asleep and looked around the next day but never saw it again.