Mopey felt as the last of the sun dissipated. He could feel the warmth leave his skin. He had been taking a nap on a car parked on the street. But now the cold was falling over the city like a wicked spell. The night was painting to be really cold.

Mopey was six years old. Of those six years, he had spent the last three living on the streets.

He had had a home once with a child who had loved him. A small one-bedroom apartment on the sixth floor of an old building in the city.

The child used to tell Mopey that he was his best friend all the time. Mopey would simply curl up on the child's lap and purr. Mopey mostly ate from what the child fed him from his own plate (usually scrambled eggs that the child would cook himself) because the parents did not care nor have enough money enough to buy cat food for him. But all in all, Mopey was as happy as a cat could be.

The child's parents would fight a lot. Sometimes they would yell at each other. The father, reeking of alcohol, would insult the mother, and she would insult him back. At other times, he would even push her and hit her, and the woman would scream and slap him and throw anything she could at him.

The neighbors didn't even bother anymore.

At the worst times, the child would hold Mopey close. He would lock himself in the room with his cat and wait for his parents to stop fighting. The child would squeeze Mopey tight when he would hear the booming sounds of their violence.

Although Mopey didn't care for the mother, he was terrified of the father. The father would not lose any opportunity to give him a kick or yell at him. He was lucky that the father was absent on most days.

This was the life of the family.

Until one day, the mother knew it was time to leave. After studying her two plum-colored eyes and the bruises on her body in the bathroom mirror when she woke up, she knew. She had enough saved for two bus passages to the city where her mother lived. So she urged her son to pack a bag with his clothes while she packed hers.

The boy begged his mother to let him take Mopey with them. He told her that he didn't take much room and that he could pack him in his own bag. He said he'd rather leave his clothes and take the cat with him. But his mother held him firmly from the shoulders and told him that she was sorry, but that there was nothing she could do and that they were not taking the cat.

The child wept, but he did as his mother told him. He knew it was better for them to leave.

But at the door, he felt cemented to the ground. He looked down at Mopey and knew he couldn't leave his best friend behind.

The mother had to rip him off the floor and drag him out of the apartment. The boy yelled he would come back for him as the door closed behind them.

It took Mopey a few weeks to realize they were never coming back. He would turn expectantly towards the door any time the door handle moved, but most of the time it was just the father, ready to give him a fresh kick. The hunger finally drove him out of the apartment.

But that was three years ago. Mopey now lived on the streets. He especially liked to stay in an alley between two old crumbling brick buildings and take naps on cars during the day. The alley had a dumpster that offered plenty to eat, and he only had to share the space with a couple other cats.

The frosty environment was like a buzzing alarm that woke Mopey up completely from his nap. He stretched himself and jumped down from the car.

His grunting stomach leads him to the dumpster in the alley. But to his surprise, the dumpster was empty.

The night's wind kept getting colder and colder. Snow would be coming any day now.

As he walked through the streets, Mopey noticed a bright orange light coming from a window on the third floor of a building. Most of the other windows were covered. He knew that light meant warmth, so he climbed up the outside staircase to the window. He could hear the noise coming from the window even before he reached it.

Although the window was closed, the cat could feel some of the heat radiating from within. Inside he saw a man and a woman.

They were fighting. The man was yelling and pointing a finger at her. The cat lays down on the window ledge and disinterestedly kept looking inside.

The woman was yelling as tears streamed down her face.

After a few minutes, she slapped him. And he slapped her back. Hard.

The echo made Mopey look towards them.

She screamed and started to try and hit him, but he slapped her again and pushed her down. As he started coming towards her, she quickly got up and went into the kitchen. She returned with a pan.

He started yelling and threatening her, and she yelled at him to leave. He launched himself towards her and she raised the pan over her head. But he was quicker and took it from her hand. He rapidly brought the pan hard onto her head. The sound made a crack. Mopey turned towards them.

The woman hit the ground.

The man looked down at her and realized what he had done. He dropped the pan and quickly left through the front door.

After a couple minutes, a little girl came from a room. She had a red face and red eyes, and when she saw her mother on the floor she ran to her. The girl was crying and trying to shake her mother awake, but her mother would not respond. After a few minutes, she saw Mopey. She came up to the window, opened it, and grabbed him. He didn't resist. He let the little girl carry him inside. Still crying she held him in her lap.

He was still with her when the neighbors came into the apartment. And he was still with her when the police came.

And the whole time, she held him tight.

The End.