That was two weeks ago. I named him Mello, even though his energy is anything but. He follows me room to room, tries to jump in my lap while I’m working, cooking, even once when I was brushing my teeth. Doesn’t matter that his body’s still healing—he needs to be touching me.

I took him to the vet the next morning. Mange, a lung infection, two cracked ribs, and something weird on his X-ray they couldn’t quite identify. They gave me meds, warned me it was gonna be expensive. I didn’t care. I just couldn’t leave him.

I sleep on the couch now because it’s lower, and he whines if I’m out of reach. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since I brought him home, but I don’t even mind.

The weird part? Yesterday, I took him back for a checkup, and the vet asked if I’d had him microchipped recently. I told her no—he was a stray. But she scanned again and frowned.

She said, “This chip was registered two years ago. And the name listed… it’s not yours.”