He was breathing, which is always a good sign. As gently as I could I picked him up, placed him on the towel, wrapped it around him, and put him in my car. I drove to the emergency clinic, the cat purring on the seat beside me. β€œWhat’s his name?” the young man at the front desk asked as my towel and cat were whisked to a back room. β€œUh…John Tomkins,” I said. β€œThat’s different,” the receptionist said, writing it down. β€œHe was a pirate,” I said. β€œI mean Tomkins. I don’t know about the cat. (...)

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