God was lazy on him, he thinks when he sees you, the epitome of God’s best work.

Reagan is a mutt and the end of an alley way, dirty, smelly and skinny who bears rotten teeth and digs sharp claws into the mud. You’re the cat in the window with warm lights behind you, fur soft and matt free, stuffed with canned fish, whose toys lay used and expensive.

He wants to be you, to know what clean food tastes like, to forget that rummaging through trash cans means food he has to make last a few days. But his smell and haggard look and the dislike people have for homeless does him no favours to beg at your feet.

God is biased, Reagan believes until the day you sneak out of the town house. You dont see him sat in the corner of the alley till the wind flaps his coat against the metal sheet beside him. This could be his chance, to beg at your feet for money you arent grateful for.