A day went by and I hardly slept. On the third day my boyfriend revealed that he had given PussPuss away to a friend who had been visiting from Philadelphia. He said she would be in a happy home. Distressed and offended that he didn’t tell me, I had to agree that it was a necessary move. When his friend from Philadelphia came for a return visit two months later I eagerly inquired about PussPuss’s welfare. He hesitated and glanced at my boyfriend before telling me that PussPuss had escaped from his car when he stopped for gas on the trip back. He wasn’t able to find her. Really? This was an all too familiar story. I questioned him closely and couldn’t get much more information. My boyfriend was remorseful and solicitous and I knew it was my own fault for not taking charge of things sooner, but for us it spelled the beginning of the end. I never felt I knew exactly what happened to PussPuss, but I also did not want to know.