After a month and a half of anecdotal research and weekly trips to the Oregon Humane Society, I found him. His name is Slacks. He's 5 months old.

He is comfortable in his body and not scared and kind. Really kind. He presses his little nose firmly into my lips, against my eye. He stares. His voice is raspy. He rides on my shoulders and in a papoose.

We danced together last night, alone in the cabin with the bluegrass marathon on KBOO. I held him on his back like a baby, swinging him along to the music. He purred so hard he couldn't keep his eyes open. This morning he crossed everything off my to-do list and wrote "hold me" instead. For you, anything.

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