Awake in my blacked-out condo unit this quiet Sunday morning, Sleepily walked to the kitchen. Eleven, I don't know where she was, she didn't follow after me. Buttered some bread, making some Cuban coffee, turned to my right to put the burner on the stove and noticed out of the corner of my eye Eleven sitting quietly, prettily, loyally on the opposite counter.

All that Eleven wants is to be with me wherever I am. A pet accepts you for who you are, doesn't judge, or make demands of, you.