 | Finney was fourteen or so when I acquired him. He was never fully at ease, which isn't surprising. Transported to an entirely new environment.
Most evenings he'd leave by the front door, and wander around the corner, checking with the couple at the end of the hall. He moved slowly, but purposefully.
Sometimes he'd stand in the hallway of the apartment and yell. He got lost between the living room and the bedroom. I'd call to him and he'd dash in and jump on the bed. Even though the apartment wasn't quite right, nor the person, it was good enough. |
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