I look out the windows all day. Sometimes, all night, too. At night, i can see what they call “stars” shining down in the sky. It’s dark besides that here. My pals roam back and forth and choose to stay away from the glass, away from the tapping fingers and prying eyes. I know it’s my job to appease them, to make them want to like me. I feel it’s my only way out.

Sometimes, I wish one of them would reach a hand in and stroke my fur. Of course, they can’t reach in. Of course, they say I’m “rabid” and “unsafe”. Yet, I’ve never hurt anyone. Molly did, though. The little boy was throwing rocks at her, and finally she bit back.

“They spit in her face, then wonder why she’s so angry,” one of my pals said as they took Molly away, bound. We never saw her again.

Maybe it’s time for me to get angry, too …