I take a deep breath as I open the door.
“Will they think I’m a creep?” I worry. Jeez, I hope not.
Because I’m going in anyway.
“Careful,” I think. “Don’t push the door too hard or too wide.”
I can see that today there are a few little ones running free, drinking from a fountain and playing with toys.
Here I am again at PS9 Pets, a store in my neighborhood that also finds homes for cats and kittens.
I’m not stopping in to get a pet. Or to buy supplies for a pet I don’t have.
I’m just here to look at sleeping kittens and playing kittens. I’ll take pics of the lil cuties and show them to my friends who might take one home.
And if someone suggests it, YES I WILL CUDDLE A KITTEN. Because this is my therapy: kitten therapy.
I’ve been really sad of late, and for obvious, real reasons. I miss my dad.
Right now, the sweetness of a kitten trumps my allergies. And it’s preferable to crying.
If anyone from PS9 reads this, thank you for tolerating me.