I love my cat, though I don't think I should. I remember Sister Euthanasius explaining that we cannot love inanimate objects. This was when she overheard Joan Truheart tell me that she loved her cell phone. Sister used it as a 'teachable moment.'

"Class, you cannot love an inanimate object."

"Can you love your dog?" asked one of the smart girls who could get away with that kind of question.

"No. You can not love dogs, cats, or other animals. Only humans." 

So loving Mooch is probably wrong. It certainly feels scary. He comes into my bedroom and looks up at me and says "Rurrr?" and I'm absolutely positive he's asking me a question that I just can't understand. So sweet. Then, when I lie down on the bed, he jumps up and circles around and curls up into a ball right up against me and goes to sleep and I can feel how warm he is right through my nightie.

How can I not love him?

He does other adorable things that melt my heart, too. But then I think of what happened to Lizzard and how sad it was and how we all loved her but couldn't do anything about it. And I didn't love Lizzard half as much as I love Mooch even after just a month.

I worry about how much I'll love him when he dies and breaks my heart. It will be a hundred times worse than when Bobby broke my heart, even if he was human, because I didn't love him as much as I love Mooch now, though for a little while I thought I did.

I've decided to protect myself from heartbreak. I've told my friends to warn me if they think I'm falling in love with a boy again; to make me stop and think

But how do I protect myself from loving Mooch? I can only think of one way. 

I have to sacrifice something for Lent anyway.

About the Author ()

Not going gentle into that good nothin'. Riding my recumbent bicycle everywhere.Bouncily enthusiastic about reading, writing, and music of all kinds.Wishing I could get back to Venice.

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