Last night, around 2:30 a.m., I got a knock. Not the doorbell. A knock. Light but deliberate.
I peered through the frosted glass and saw nothing. Then I opened the door.
At my feet was a wicker gate. Not one of the cheap ones. This was old, reinforced with iron bands, and tied shut with thick black cord. No note. No person in sight. The street was empty.
There were breathing sounds coming from inside. Wet and shuddery, like a sick dog. I brought it in of course. I should call RSCPA, but it’s what I do- I take in strays, the sick, the dying. The impossible.
