My name is Hopkins and I was a street cat for a while. I don’t exactly remember my pre-street days, but I think I might have been loved, because I really enjoy the company of humans, preferably right on their laps. If someone picks me up I will hug them with my paws.
But then the dark days came. I was out on the streets of Baltimore, in a rather violent neighborhood. Windows boarded up or broken (hard to walk around broken glass), dogs out, mean and untethered, but the worst were the gunshots. It was frightening to me and the other street cats. Our hearing is more acute than that of humans, and I know for the humans didn’t like the guns becuase I’d see them fall to the floor in their houses with their hands over their ears.
A kind lady would bring us food every day and so I didn’t go hungry, but some of the cats were truly wild, unlike me, and they fought. I lost my right eye to a fight. But the kind lady brought me to a clinic to get it removed and to get me checked out. She knew I was different. And when she knew that she would be moving away, she fought the Internet battle of “please adopt this cat” messages and her words brought tears to Farmer Anne’s eyes. And so it was to be that I came here. I am in charge of the bunny room but I also make sure no one messes with Farmer Anne’s office – and take some naps in the sun in there, while I’m at it.