On Saturday, the animal shelter is filled with voices. Dogs scratch at their doors, baying and yelping, but in a large, wire enclosure, the kitties meow softly. The dog area is musty, but the kitty pen smells sweet, like alfalfa.
I thread my fingers through the cool wire of the gate. I can't see the kitties because I'm blind. I listen hard. Do any of those meows sound like kitten meows?
“I don't think I hear any kittens, Mom.”
“You're right, Annie. But there are lots of cats . . . fat ones, skinny ones, some with long tails, and one with no tail!”
I hold Mom’s warm hand as the shelter director, Mrs. Pat, takes us inside the cat pen. I sit down and stretch out my hands to…
