I leaned down and petted Wiggy. It felt good to touch an animal, its fur and softness. I fed him a treat, and then he sniffed my hand and let me scratch his face. I found the spot by his whiskers where Gertrude loved being scratched, and after a while and many treats, he let me really pet him, and he went melty into the sidewalk. Then he rubbed against my leg. He sat still at first, and then I miraculously got him to walk a little. I coaxed him over to a square in the sidewalk in front of the building where lots of plants grew, by the street. Wiggy lay down beside a fern and pawed at the dirt.
