At the beginning of the pandemic, I was very worried about Chicago's homeless. I know how hard life on the street is, and how dependent they are on the foot traffic of office workers in the Loop. I kinda adopted a homeless man on the corner of Michigan and Lake. He used to have a tortoise shell cat that he doted on. At the beginning of the pandemic, he was convinced by a nice lady to surrender her. He said he missed her, but he realized she was better in a safe, stable home.
While she looked good, I'm sorry to report he did not. There were scratches on his face and a cut on his nose. They were not the marks of kitten. My guess is a fall or maybe a car accident.
The next time I saw him, two Tuesdays later, he was asleep -- right there on that noisy corner -- and he didn't have the cat. I left him a blessing bag (tissue packet, cough drops, breakfast bar, clean mask, and a $1 bill) and an additional $5.
Same thing today. Sleepy dude. No cat. I just hit and run with the blessing bag again. I was kind of glad he was out of it. I don't want to know what was wrong (I suspect meds). I don't want to know what happened to the cat. (She might have been stolen, or run into that busy, busy street).
Some stories just don't get a happy ending.
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