Fridays (Friday Number Eight, October 6th, page 2 of 9)

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My home hours are much the same as past weeks; busy and as a result no chance for a recent ocean-side walk. There has been one small change in my Hawthorn Street household. We have an addition, at least for the time being.

My coterie of confidants is rapidly expanding. First there was Amy, and then this journal. With the recently discovered letters came Sarah whose thoughts I share via her writings; though decidedly ours is a one sided relationship. Now a new friend has joined our select group.

A black cat who previously received his sustenance from the recently deceased Mr. Shulman, has taken to grace my doorstep every day this week. Although I tried to ignore him, his pathetic look finally succeeded in shaming me. I donated a small bowl of milk to his wellbeing yesterday morning, before I left for school. I feel he interpreted my offering an invitation to a long term commitment. Since then he has become an immovable fixture on my stair. Alas, today I allowed him entrance into my sanctuary.

All my confidants have names but I was in a quandary what to title this new guest. While I refer to "it" in the masculine, I truly don't have a clue nor an interest in investigating the he or she of the animal. Therefore, a sexless moniker would have to be chosen. Amy and I decided on "Black Cat."

Black Cat is a pest, especially for affection. I've never owned a pet so I am unclear how much time should be devoted to their attention. I'm sure Black Cat is not being cheated. He has an insatiable appetite for a stroked neck and is a glutton for a warm lap. His sleeping habits also need adjustment if he is to remain in my home. He is presently curled beside me, catching up after a night of roaming my rooms and bed.

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