text: The rules say I can’t have a pet of any kind. It’s posted right there on the wall with all the other stuff. I’ve lived here for over five years. Ever since my mother died and the state people came to take me. They put me here. It’s nice and all, but I miss my mother. My name is Walter Hanaratty and I live at St. Vincent’s Adult Home for people that are cognitively challenged, like me. I am on the Blue Team. Jennifer Garrett is in charge of us. I like her. She is pretty and says things my mother told me when I was a child. Some of the people on the Blue Team are mean to her. “I don’t like her.” Jamie Kullitts declared when we were at the sheltered workshop where we make placemats for local restaurants. “She’s nice.” I said, defending her. “No she’s not.” She snaps back at me as she finishes another placemat. Sometimes I hate being on the Blue Team, but it’s better than staying with Aunt Sophie. She was mean to me. She did not understand what having a thinking problem is like. I was born with it. My mother said that I would have to make due. I was never sure what she meant by that, but her sister Sophie kept telling me that I was lazy and stupid. That hurt my feelings. So, I ran away. I stayed in the backyard of my old home until the state people came to get me. “Walter Hanaratty, you will have to come with us.” A tall man told me as he held out his badge. He was not a policeman, but he acted like one. “We have a complaint from the property owner that you have been camping out here.” The other state man said tilting his head as if it was too heavy for his neck. “Pick up your things. We are taking you to our office.” The first state man pointed to my sleeping bag and backpack. I did what he told me to do. They had a van parked in front of my old house. I put my stuff in the van and sat in the bench seat. I did not say anything as they drove me into town. Mr. Payson was waiting for me. “Walter-” He stood up when we walked in. “Wally.” I made sure he knew what name I wanted to be called. “Wally, I’m Mr. Payson and this is Mrs. Grimly. She runs St. Vincent’s Home over on Maple Street.” He told me as if I knew where this place was. “I went home.” I insisted. “Walter-Wally, that is not your home anymore.” He shrugged. “You can come live at my house.” Mrs. Grimly smiled. “I don’t want to.” I stomped my foot on the tile floor. Mr. Payson crossed his arms over his chest, putting one hand to his chin. “Wally, we already have a bed for you.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want to go there.” I shook her hand off my shoulder. “Walter-Wally, you have no choice.” Mr. Payson explained. “You were trespassing.” “I used to live there.” I pointed my finger at him. “You don’t live there anymore.” He sighed. “We will look after you, Wally.” Mrs. Grimly smiled again. “I want my mother.” I stomped my foot again. “Wally, dear, Wally, your mother is gone.” She shook her head. Saying that brought a tear to my eyes. “She wanted you to come with me. Here.” She held out a paper with my mother’s name on it saying I needed to go with her. With a shrug of my shoulder, I nodded that I would. She took my sleeping bag and Mr. Payson grabbed my backpack. After a ten minute ride, I was standing at the front door holding my backpack. I followed Mrs. Grimly into the large two story house. “We will have a welcome party with cake at dinner.” She promised. I like cake. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad afterall, I thought. She walked me to my room that I would share with Darrell Montcrief. Darrell was my age, but he liked to laugh for no reason at all. He would say bad words before laughing. Words that were against the rules. Most people think that guys like me aren’t very smart. That is true for the most part, but I did learn how to read and write which my special teacher told me was “remarkable.” I wrote down that word in my notebook. I use it a lot. While most people do not expect me to do a lot of things, I want to try anyway. I told Mr. Ally I wanted to work at the sheltered workshop he was in charge of. “I’m not sure you will be able to do the job.” He had my folder open on his desk. “I’m not sure you are high functioning enough.” I wrote that word down in my notebook too; high-functioning. He looked at me over the top of his glasses and grunted, “Well, we can give you a try. The van leaves for the workshop at eight in the morning. If you want to give it a try, be ready by then in the morning.” “Yes, sir.” I saluted. “It says here that your evaluation showed significant cognitive disability.” He glanced at the open folder. “If you really want to work in my shop, I need you to do what I tell you. Do you understand?” I nodded, yes. “Good. See you in the morning.” He let a smile swim across his face. I liked working at the workshop. I removed the scrap material from the work areas where two dozen workers assembled placemats and stacked the finished products into boxes. I would come by and pick up the filled boxes. With Mr. Ally watching me, I did everything I was told to do. After my first day he told me that I was not part of the “crew.” I also wrote that word in my notebook. One of the things that bothered me was, I did not feel as though I belonged there at St. Vinnies (as the others called it). Adrienne was the self-appointed queen of the house. After dinner, we would gather in the group room and have a house meeting. At these meetings we would check-in with Miss Doss who would smile and nod at whatever we said. Adrienne sat to Miss Doss’ right and would scan the twenty of us sitting in a circle to make sure we were listening. It was just like my classroom in school. “On Saturday we will be going on an outing.” Miss Doss would say. “We will all be going together, but we must stay together. No wandering off, understood?” We all concurred in our own special way. I responded with, “I promise.” Miss Doss was young and pretty. She would make sure we were staying together as we went to the mall. Two residents opted not to go, because they wanted to watch television instead. Mom used to take me to the mall when I needed shoes or clothing for school. She would spend hours trying to pick out things I would wear. “Wally, do these shoes pinch your feet?” She would ask when I tired the shoes on. “No, mom.” I would shake my head. “Are you sure?” She would ask as if she did not believe me. I would make some disapproving noise. Now I am sorry, because she died of cancer. “If you see something you want, let me know. I have your money with me.” Miss Doss would sing out as we walked through the mall. We all were given an allowance, but I did not see anything I wanted to spend my money on. Darrell was my partner on the outing. We all had to buddy up so we wouldn’t get lost. The mall was in three levels and it was easy to get lost if you weren’t paying attention. There was a Winco at one end of the mall. When we passed it, I saw a couple of baggers putting the customer’s items into paper bags. I bowed my head when I saw them. Before my mother died, I was a bagger at Albertsons. She would drive me there and then do her shopping. I would always ask the cashier if I could bag her groceries. I wanted to see what she was getting so I’d know what we would be having for dinner. Now I never knew, because Flora, our cook at the house, had the groceries delivered. We walked and walked. Darrell began to get cranky, so we stopped at a place that had smoothies. After downing one of them, he was in a better mood. When we got to the second level, I stopped in my tracks. The store was Meyers’ Pets and in the big window were about a dozen kittens. “C’mon Wally.” Darrell urged in a not so nice voice. “You go ahead. I wanna look.” I pointed to the window. “Fine.” He nearly growled and kept walking. “Would you want to hold one of them?” A woman from the store asked as I squatted down to have a better look. “Could I?” I rose to my feet. She nodded and I followed her inside the store. She was a smokey gray kitten. When I held her, she curled up close to my chest purring. “She really likes you.” The woman smiled. “Yeah.” I smiled back. “If I got her, I’d call her Smokey.” “That’s a pretty name.” She nodded. “Yeah.” I agreed. She was still purring. “She costs twenty dollars, but comes with a certificate for shots and a discount on neutering.” The woman squatted down so she could look me in the eyes. She was pretty and I liked the way she talked to me like Miss Spencer from my special classroom. “I can’t have pets where I live.” I shook my head. “Why not?” She asked as her smile disappeared, “Where do you live?” “I live in St. Vinnie’s.” I answered forgetting that I did not want to tell people that, because they would know my brain was not quite right. “I see.” She put her finger to her chin, “That’s too bad, because she really likes you.” “She does, doesn’t she.” I put my chin close so I could feel her purr. “What’s your name?” She stroked the kitten between the ears. “Walter Hanaratty, but all my friends call me Wally.” I answered. “Okay, Wally. I need to put her back with the others. It’s a shame, because she really likes you.” She took the kitten from my hands. I was sad, because I could no longer hear Smokey purr. I watched her put the small kitten in the window with the others. She let out a small meow in protest as her paws touched the shredded newspaper. I was very sad then. “Wally, you come back if anything changes and I’ll make sure you get Smokey.” She nodded. “Just ask for me, Penny. Penny Gray.” “Thank you Miss Gray.” I bowed my head. At that very moment, Darrell came ambling toward the store with a big Slurpee in his hands. “Wally, we got to go in five minutes. Miss Doss says.” He announced and then took a big draw on his straw. “All right.” I sighed. “I wanna go to that game store over there. C’mon.” He waved as he walked past. I had twenty dollars in my pocket from Mr. Ally’s workshop. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Miss Gray.” She was helping an older lady get a bag of dog food into her cart. She turned to face me when I called her name. “Wally, what can I do for you?” She asked as the lady thanked her pushing the cart out of the store. I handed her the twenty dollars I had in my pocket. She winked at me as she walked over to the window and put Smokey in my arms. She immediately began to purr. She missed me. “Let me ring you up. You get some coupons for a wellness check.” She walked to the cash register. “C’mon, duffus. Gotta go.” Darrell was waving to me from outside the store. Seeing him, I knew he’d blab to Miss Doss about the kitten. Worse, I knew he’d tell Mrs. Grimly as well. Carefully, I tucked Smokey into my hoodie near my chest. I took the coupons Miss Gray handed me along with the receipt. Darrell and I walked to the van. I could feel Smokey asleep next to my t-shirt, hidden from view. “What did you get?” Sylla asked me when I sat down next to her. “Nothing.” I answered. “You got something.” She laughed, “Did you steal it?” “No.” I shook my head. “Liar.” She grinned. “Lemme see.” “Leave me alone.” I slapped her hand away from my hoodie. “Hey, Mrs. Grimly says no hitting.” She scowled at me. “Folks, settle down.” Miss Doss said sternly, “I have to drive this van in traffic.” Smokey meowed. I froze like a statue. “What was that?” Ellie asked as she sipped on her soda. “What was what?” I asked with all the innocence I could. “Sounded like a cat.” Buster shrugged. “It was.” Sylla grinned. “I didn’t hear nothing.” I shrugged as I could feel Smokey squirm. Her tiny feet began to tickle me. “You are acting strange, Wally.” Sylla squinted with suspicion. “What you got, Wally?” Darrell joined in. “Nothing, leave me alone.” My face was turning red. I could see Miss Doss look at me in the van’s rear view mirror. When we got back, Miss Doss tapped me on the shoulder, “Wally, I think you need to go see Mrs. Grimly.” “I don’t want to.” I shook my head. “Yeah, but you have to tell her about the kitten you got stuffed in your sweatshirt.” She put her hands on her hips. Dropping my head to my chest, I nodded. I could feel Smokey purring contently under my hoodie. “I’ll got with you. I have to turn in the van keys.” I walked in the front door with the others. Mrs. Grimly was in her office next to the stairs. Feeling like a condemned man on his way to the electric chair, I shuffled to her office with Miss Doss leading the way. “Hey Lydia, what’s up?” Mrs. Grimly sat back in her chair when she heard Miss Doss knock on her office door. “I got Wally here.” She glanced down at me. “So I see.” She smiled, “Wally, how are you? How was the outing at the mall?” “Fine.” But my voice didn't sound like things were fine. “I see.” She stood up. “What happened at the mall?” “Wally has something he wants to show you.” Miss Doss replied. “Really?” Her eyes opened wide, “Wally, what is it?” Once again, I bowed my head and began to remove the sleeping kitten from my hoodie. Once Smokey was in my arms where everyone could see her, I felt an unexpected feeling of relief. “I see.” Mrs. Grimly squatted down a bit to get a better look of Smokey. “There was a commotion in the van.” Miss Doss explained. “And Wally had a cat, I see.” Mrs. Grimly patted Smokey between the ears just like Miss Gray had back at the store. “You know that the house rules say you can’t have pets, right?” “I know.” I felt as if Mrs. Grimly had pulled the switch on my electric chair. “Normally, I would say rules are rules.” She straightened up, “But this little angel is adorable.” “Isn’t she?” Miss Doss could not hide her smile. “Good thing I have some food. Poor thing looks hungry.” Mrs. Grimly got out a can of cat food and poured the can into a tea cup she kept on a table next to her desk. It was no secret that Mrs. Grimly was fond of tea. As soon as she placed the food on her desk next to where Smokey was, the kitten began to eat. “Mr. Fussy was my cat for many years until recently. I kept the food in case...” The three of us watched Smokey eat every last bit from the tea cup. “Now Mr. Hanaratty, you will not be allowed to keep this cat in your room.” Mrs. Grimly sat at her desk and glanced at Smokey, “So we will know this is Wally’s cat, but the others will come to know her as the house cat. Are you willing to do that?” “Yes ma’am.” I nodded. “She will be allowed to wander to any room she wishes.” She smiled, “And seek attention with anyone she desires, is that understood?” “Yes ma’am.” I agreed. “Good.” Mrs. Grimly concluded. Secrets are great as long as they stay secrets. Smokey wandered the house during the day, but she would return to my room at night where she would curl up next to me and purr before falling asleep.