I saw you on my way to work. I was walking, despite it being a cold winter morning, as I had left the house early: At 6:30am, giving me enough time to get my steps in and perhaps get a coffee. I walked past Maplewood Ave and slowed down as I approached an alleyway. And when I slowed down, I saw you, lying right in the middle of the sidewalk. The sun had yet to rise high enough to shine so I almost didn’t notice you. You gave off no scent and your eyes were closed, as if you died peacefully. At first, I had assumed that you were sleeping. My legs shook as I slowly, quietly walked around you, hoping that the squeaking of my crocs wouldn't make you wake up and jump on me. And when I passed you, I sped up, looking behind me to make sure I was safe from you. But, when I walked the same path on my way home, when the path was properly lit by the street lights that had just turned on, I found you exactly in the same position, and it was then I knew you were never a threat to me.

Your size isn’t something that one can miss. You were large, fat; A healthy rat who had great luck in finding food. Your gray hairs were still clean, showing no sign of how you died. But Wicker Park is full of stray cats. I can assume that one of them, possibly the still missing Hatul or Hamish, had gotten a hold of you, biting your neck and killing you with their teeth, which grew sharper as they grew used to life as strays.

But Wicker Park is full of people who care about what’s on the ground. I’ve seen students from a Private school picking up trash during school hours. I’ve seen people who clean up after other people’s dogs. The ground is never dirty because every other household owns a dog or three and they don’t want their fur babies to be injured or the cause of someone’s injuries.

In the early mornings, I have to avoid running into joggers and people who have 2 or 3 leashes in their hands. I can only imagine what one of these dog owners went through when their dogs began to crowd around you, sniffing and probing you with their nose. I can see one of them opening their mouths to grasp your decaying body within their strong jaw, ready to squish you between sharp canines. I can hear their owner yelling “NO! Put that down!” as his brother and sister began to fight over your carcass, pulling you limb from limb from within the first dog's mouth.

No. People in Wicker Park would never let that happen. 

You were gone without a trace after 2 days.