The home was large by any standard. I figured that my house would easily fit into their garage. I pulled up the driveway, parked and rang the bell. A maid answered the door, and I asked to speak to the woman whose named appeared on the microchip file. A beautiful redhead came to the door, almost reluctantly. She stood a few feet back from the door as if I was going to touch her or contaminate her with the germs of the poor. “Yes, you asked for me?” she said impatiently. She looked me over from head to toe. “We’re not donating to the homeless again. They were here last month for a donation.” “I’m not homeless. I’ve come to see you about a cat.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled through the camera feed until I found the photo I wanted. I held the screen so she could see the feline. “That’s my cat, Morris. Why do you have a photo of him on your phone?” She stepped back from the phone and me.
