Harry is a tuxedo cat who was born, according to the rescue outfit I got him from, on Valentine’s Day.
With long black fur, a snowy bib and oversized white feet, he stole my heart immediately.
When I brought him home to my apartment in Chicago, Harry reveled in life outside of a cage.
He stretched across a panel of sunlight on the hardwood floor of my apartment, his tail curling into a question mark. Itwas as if he was ask if this could be his home.
He came up with the answer soon enough, wandering from room to room chirping happily.