I should get home to feed Chicken, but I want to make sure you make it back safe.” I quirk my head. “Is Chicken your… chicken?” “No, he’s my cat,” he says like it’s obvious. “You named your cat Chicken? Why? Does he eat chickens?” He frowns. “Yeah, but I don’t know why it sounds so nasty when you say it like that. My sister chose the name because that’s all he’d eat when we brought him back from the shelter, but now I’m imagining him devouring a bloody chicken. He eats canned chicken like a normal cat.”
