She was in the chair in front of mine. Her hair was colored badly, overgrown, uneven past her shoulders. I wanted to cut her hair. I wanted to give her a bath and put her to bed. I wanted to kiss her all over, maybe sing something to her, even though I don’t like to sing. Just something. To soothe her. She could be well off by herself; but she’s sanguine, hopeful as a child about tomorrow. That day would bring someone along for sure. Me. She was strong and assertive but equally vulnerable – like that dog with all the different colors and no collar who belonged to no one – its hair was unruly, dull in spots. For a while he had managed to survive on scraps and bowls of food put out by neighborhood animal lovers — I could take care of her — introduce her to a different way, calm her.