New story in the Star Tribune:
A few years ago, a kitten showed up on our doorstep.
He had six toes, tuxedo colors and a personality much bigger than his size. As he wandered from house to house, the whole neighborhood fell in love with him. We already had three cats, and the last thing we wanted was another. But he quickly went from sleeping on our back stoop to sleeping wherever he wanted.
We called him Fritzie. Whenever you called his name, he came running as fast as he could. He walked with us to the bus stop in the morning, then home again. He threw his toys in the air and chased them. He followed us around like a dog.
Fritzie lived at our house for most of that summer. Then one day we tried to call him in the house before dark, but he didn’t come.
I looked through the house. He wasn’t there.
I went up and down our alley, calling his name.
The next day I searched the blocks near ours.
I knew he couldn’t have gone far, but there was no question: Fritzie was gone.