My Nine Lives.
Over the course of my long life (or lives depending on how you look at it) I have been known by many names. And not all of them translate exactly. My latest and last one is Gracen. I do not know how old I am, nor do I really care. All that matters is that I get two square meals a day and a warm bed at night. An occasional pet behind the ears is nice too. It’s times like this, late at night in my bed, when I reminisce back to where it all began.
It began 17 years ago, on a crisp fall afternoon. Or so I’m told. I don’t remember, I couldn’t have known anyway. We are born deaf and blind. We can’t even smell. And so I lay there among my brothers and sisters. All five of us. Gradually, I lost track of them. But that comes later.
As…