“I wonder what it’s doing here, it’s cold.” “There’s no tag?” “Nothing.” “Weird,” he says, brushing his hands on his knees before straightening up. “Should we like . . . bring it to the firehouse or something?” I raise an eyebrow as I stand. “Isn’t that for babies?” “Probably.” He eyes the thing like he expects it to start howling like a banshee. “Be careful, Pen. It could hurt you.” I laugh. “Cooper, it’s a three-pound kitten. Hardly threatening.” “I don’t trust it.” “Stop being such a baby. Look, it’s cute.”
