24/09/2025
Hi, it’s me—Dennis.
Yes, that Dennis. The white fluff you hear yelling across the parking lot the second your car door clicks shut.
I don’t live in a house. I don’t have a bed or toys or someone who waits for me when the day is done. What I have is a patch of concrete beside Building 13… and hope.
Every morning and night, I wait. I hear the jingle of keys, and I can’t help myself—I shout. Loud, dramatic, a little ridiculous, but that’s just how I say: “I knew you’d come back for me.”
You bring me food, water, and a few minutes of love. I weave around your legs like I could keep you forever if I just tried hard enough. But then… you go. And I stay. Always waiting for more than two meals and a shadow to curl up in.
I’m not wild. I’m not broken. I’m gentle, I’m friendly, and I still believe in people. I just need one person to believe in me, too.
So if you’re reading this and you have a little space—on your couch, in your heart—I promise I’ll fill it with purrs, belly flops, and the kind of love only a street cat who’s been waiting too long can give.
Will you be the one I stop waiting for?
Love,
Dennis 🐾