“What’s your name?” She asks, poking gently, not wanting to tip the situation over.
“Is that what you go by or is that the legal description?” She tries to wink with her voice but doesn’t think it comes through. It’s a soft push, wanting to say just the the right amount, coaxing the kitten from under the bed.
“My mother always said Joshua and my Pop always called me Josh.” Releasing it’s not a real answer he adds, “Josh is best.”
Tug lays quiet, his chest and belly against the bed. The man and the woman are talking and he likes it. Slow, soft. No growling. No barking. Wiggling forward he slides off the bed like a seal, hind legs dragging.