Four April, Twenty Twenty-One
Ask the cat. Or try.
What’s my name?
I don’t have a name but the guy who comes in the front door every day calls me something. It’s different all the time. I like the guy. He sets out food for me in the morning and lets me butt my head against his leg without needing to reach down and do all that annoying petting nonsense (hey, stop that. I told you I’d do this dumbass…