This morning, leaving Panera, I saw a young man sleeping in the entrance of the subway, his back facing the street. He looked as if he was camping out sprawled on a blanket, his boots by his side.
It was young, and to me, a female with the prettiest face wrapped in a bath towel guarding him lovingly. My heart, already hanging by twine, gripped as if someone squeezed it.
This is what I know. A man I met who works at the ASPCA told me, homeless people take better care of their pets than many with roofs over their head. I always remember that when I come upon a situation like this one. Believe me when I say, I was much more distressed than the cat was. She seemed perfectly comfortable and happy just where she sat, snuggled next to the one who loves her. To be honest, I couldn’t help but be a little envious.
I flew into Duane Reade to buy cat food I quietly left on his blanket realizing afterwards, I should have left something for him.
Busting myself, I have more compassion for someone on the street with an animal than one who is surviving alone. The moment a dog or cat comes into play I’m digging into my wallet.
As I gingerly put the can of Friskies down the little kitty looked at me with blinking eyes, a sign of trust as if to say, thank you so much – from the both of us.