This is Frito, a recent feral at work. He was skin and bones, pathetic, really. He didn't want to know anyone. His brother (who was actually loveable) died, and then he decides we should be friends. He's a lord helmet. Will rub up on you to be petted and then bite you. But then he's sweet too, sometimes. At night I sit down for 20 mins before I leave. He automatically goes to his bed under my table when the lights start getting shut down. This is our ritual. He is one of about 50 that have been born around this shop. The cars get what the hawks miss, usually. Every day when I walk in, he's working me over to be fed. Pretty much my shadow, otherwise.
I have to be careful where I step. Every time I sit down to take a break, he's there.
