Our cat was always a troublemaker. My dad called him Blackie, after a cat we had when I was very young. The cat always got into trouble, like “going” where he wasn’t supposed to or following my dad all around the house. All the time.
My dad kept saying he was going to get rid of him. Then one day, he finally did it. He didn’t take him back to the pet shop where he got him, like he said he would. He let him out. The cat liked it. Until he began freezing out there. Blackie returns every night begging to come back in. I am forced to ignore him by my heartless father.
Recently, I have gone out to see Blackie. I miss him. And I thought that if my dad got rid of him, I wouldn’t. But I do. I am crying deep inside.