Preview of PDF document ss2015zine.pdf

Page 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Text preview

This is Socks. My sister gave him that name when
she saw his white paws. Socks is one of seven or
eight stray cats that comes around to eat the cat
food I leave on the porch. I live in the tiny town of
Woods on the Oregon coast, where I don’t know a
soul, so these cats are my entire social life until a
friend visits or I drive into Portland.
For over a year I’ve been yearning to pet these
fuzzy creatures that take my daily offerings, but
they’re all very much afraid of humans. But Socks
... Socks is different. From the beginning, Socks
seemed a little less timid. I could get closer to
him than the others, and sometimes even sit
on the porch at a distance while he ate. Little
by little over the last several months I’ve been
inching closer. One night I even got a meow as
I crept toward him at a snail’s pace. And then ...
peter broderick

just a few weeks ago, on the night of a full moon
... I was sitting out on my porch bench around one
or two in the morning, taking it all in, winding
down for bed. And there came Socks, gracefully
strutting up the steps. Immediately I went inside
and poured him a bowl of milk. As long as I moved
slowly, he didn’t seem to be scared of me. The milk
was devoured instantly, and then he moved
onto the crunchy dry food. I was watching and
listening in awe, slowly crawling forward with my
hand out, making little noises with my mouth.
And once he finished eating, he took glanced
around in all directions, paused for a moment,
and cooly walked over and brushed his furry head
into my hand. And that was it. Soon enough he
was rolling around, letting me stroke his belly ...
unlimited access!
Do you believe in magic?
caleb jeffries