April 19, 2000

Dear Journal,

  Here I am, sitting behind bars.  What have I done wrong?  Nothing that I can remember.  I can see the cat beside me, he is beaten up.  I don't belong with him. I have a home that I once was let in and out and then not let in anymore.  People walk by and look at me, some stop to try and pet me through the bars.  I cry to them to take me home.  No one does.
  Finally, a familar face.  I cry out.  It is the lady who comforted me yesterday.  She pets me through the cage.  I talk to her and she talks back.  I am happy to have the company.  She says something about I will be hers.  Then she leaves.  I am still here.  I don't understand.  Won't someone please take me with them?