Feya went to work later than Maisie on Thursday, so Milo wasn’t home alone as long. Or, so he thought.

        He looked up from playing with his mouse and saw Feya by the front door.

        She removed Daisy’s Service Dog vest and said, “Now, Daisy, you’re going to stay here today and keep Milo company.”

        Wait, what? Milo didn’t know if he should’ve been concerned or overjoyed.

        “Arf! Arf!” Daisy shook her head and grabbed her vest with her teeth. She pawed Feya’s left leg, and her brown eyes widened.

        Feya gave her a tender smile. “I don’t need you today. I promise I’m getting better. I’m afraid Milo will lose his head if he’s alone for another day.” She stole Daisy’s vest and put it in her room, locking the door.

        “Arf! Arf!” Daisy hopped in front of the exit and blocked Feya’s path.

        She gently pushed her aside and collected a crutch propped on the wall, slipping it under her arm.

        Milo swore—when was the last time Feya went to the doctor? Something told him it had been a while.

        Daisy attempted to follow her, but Feya closed the door in her face. Her nose bopped it, and she barked.

        Milo puffed up when she turned around and carefully walked by her. He kept his mouse between his front paws.

        Daisy backed away and scratched the door like it was a scratching post. Now she knew how Milo felt.

        It took a minute, but he relaxed and pushed his mouse toward her. It was a little torn up but still good to play with.

        Daisy ignored him and waited by the front door for Feya.

        Milo approached her and lifted his paw, touching her shoulder.

        Daisy didn’t move.

        Milo had to find a way to break her out of her Service Dog state if he hoped to get any practice for a sibling. He trotted into Maisie’s room and returned with a string. Daisy still didn’t budge, so Milo played with it instead, slowly losing his mind over his pending destiny: loneliness.

***

        Maisie came home around 4:00.

        She glimpsed at Milo, “Hey, Milo,” and then Daisy. “Hey, Daisy. Wait, Daisy?”

        Oh no, not again! Was she still going to choose Feya over Milo?

        “What are you doing here?” Maisie dropped her knapsack. “I thought Feya worked until 7:00.” A concerned look crossed her face. “Nothing’s happened to her, right? Oh gosh!” She typed into her phone and put it on speaker.

        Milo soon heard Feya on the other line. “Hey, girl!”

        “Feya! Thank God!” Maisie twirled her hair around her index finger. “Where are you?”

        “At work.”

        “Would you please tell me why Daisy’s home?”

        “She’s keeping Milo company. We talked about this during our G.N.O.”

        “I said I would think about it. That wasn’t a yes!”

        “You worry too much. I’ve got my crutch, so I’m fine.”

        Maisie tensed. “Feya, get your ass back here right now and get your Service Dog!”

        “With only three hours left in the shift? I don’t think so.”

        Milo noticed Maisie’s rising anxiety and moved toward her.

        She clutched her hip. “Feya, I hate to act like a mom, but—”

        “Goodbye, Maisie.” Feya’s line went dead.

        “Hello? Hello? Ugh! Can you believe her, Milo?” Maisie threw her phone onto one of the couch’s frilly pillows. “I’m trying to help her, for Pete’s Sake! Daisy”—Maisie turned to her—“when was the last time Feya went to the doctor?”

        Sure, as if Daisy could talk.

        “I’ve had it with her.” Maisie glanced at the kitchen clock. “Animal Kingdom closes at 7:00. She came to All-Star Sports because she was worried about me. I can do the same.”

        Was she seriously thinking about—? What did Milo have to do to get his Maisie back—hurt himself? That was the only reason why she cared more for Feya. He dove for her without warning, and his sharp claws dug into her leg. “Mrow!”

        “Ow!” Maisie yelled.

        “Arf!” barked Daisy.

        “Bad cat! Bad!” Maisie forced Milo off. A few drops of blood dripped down her leg.

        Milo arched his back and hissed, flattening his ears.

        “Do you think I’m going to feed you after that?” Maisie snapped. “You know better, Milo!” She ripped a paper towel off the roll in the kitchen and wet it under the sink, dabbing her wound. Maisie picked up her phone and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door shut.

        “You’re my human! Not Feya’s!” Milo hissed. Invisible hands tore his heart into two pieces. Milo lost his angry stance and collapsed onto his side.

        “Arf?” Daisy approached and nudged him, but Milo refused to stand.

        He saw the day he met Maisie. There he was, alone at the Greenville Humane Society because a family adopted his brother before him, and Maisie came to his cage. Milo instantly felt their connection and rolled over like a dog. He showed how active he was and how much he loved to play. Maisie left but returned an hour later with her father and adopted him.

        Oh, how Milo yearned for the joy he felt that day, but everything changed with Matthew’s death. Maisie was no longer the Maisie he remembered. She pointed a knife at her heart in December 2021 and popped pills in front of Milo that night, earning her a trip to the ER.

        If a cat could cry, Milo would. He just wanted his Maisie back.

        Daisy lay down beside him and whimpered. Did she feel the same way?