Life with Walter
Walter and his mom, Jenny, above and Walter, below How do you prepare yourself for the day your beloved companion is gone? JENNY BLOCK | Contributing Columnistjennyeblock@icloud.com I went to the SPCA to play with the kittens.
Actually, I went to take my girlfriend at the time to play with the kittens. As soon as we walked in, though, I saw him — or them, actually. “What is that?” I said pointing to the blob of matted fur encircled by plastic gates. “Puppies,” the SPCA employee replied.
I shook my head, sure he had misunderstood what I had said or where I was pointing. “No,” I said. “That. There.” And I pointed again. “Puppies,” the employee said again, this time with a mix of frustration and disbelief that I was — or at least was acting — so stupid. “No,” I said again, shaking my head. “The… ” This time the employee cut me off: “Go in and look for yourself,” he said, by now truly exasperated as he opened the pen and waved me in.
I was sure it was a pile of ferrets or some other random and/or mildly wild beast. But it was not. It was puppies. Two puppies.
