It was an incredible day. I couldn’t believe the first week of December could be this warm! People were outside in shorts and T-shirts, walking dogs and washing cars; it felt more like Easter than the Christmas holiday. My condo community was full of children and pets, all running around the parking lot and the narrow street that meandered through the development. I walked out to the main road and down the hill where two huge shopping centers faced each other across a busy street. Fast-food franchises rimmed the edges of the parking lots, and as I surveyed what stores filled the strip malls, I realized I had basically everything I’d ever need within a ten-minute walk: grocery store, pharmacy, gas station, restaurants, office supply store, numerous clothing stores, and, my favorite, a giant Target. Next to the Target was a pet supply store, and I decided on a whim (which was apparently how I made all my decisions these days) that what I needed was a little unconditional animal love. My parents’ allergies had stopped us from having pets when I was a kid, and I’d been wanting a cat for a while. That would be my next course of action: to find an animal shelter and get myself a four-legged roommate.

I grabbed some basic food necessities and lugged them back up the hill. Once home, I unpacked some more, promising myself that once I had things more or less organized and cleaned up, I would let myself get a cat and explore the area a little more. Once I had the place sufficiently set up, I changed clothes, called the nearest animal shelter for directions, and took off.

Before going to the shelter, I drove up and down the major streets near my condo, trying to fix locations and street names in my head. My first few days had been spent running from one specific place to another, and I hadn’t had the chance to really explore. As I drove farther out, I passed another Target and stopped in to get some cat stuff so I’d have it as soon as I brought one home. I didn’t want to leave the poor thing stranded without food or a litter box; the last thing I wanted was to be cleaning up cat pee from the carpet of an apartment that didn’t even belong to me.

I grabbed a small box of litter and a bag of food, then wandered into the housewares department to find dishes for food and water. There I found exactly what I was looking for: a pair of psychedelically painted ceramic bowls, much more interesting than the plain plastic dishes in the pet section. I hoped my new cat would appreciate my artistic taste.