The man spotted him.

“Well, hey kitty. Look at you with them yellow eyes and that black-and-white coat. You are one handsome bastard.”

Max smiled, and for a moment he felt the uncontrollable urge to make the clicking noise he sometimes made when he saw a bird.

“Come over here and see old Jerry.” The man held out his hand in a way that wasn’t threatening. Max stepped closer until the man-Jerry-was able to touch him, patting him awkwardly on the head. Not a cat person, but he could be trained.

The man smelled like everything Max had passed on his way to the green space. The bus exhaust, hamburger grease, cigarettes. Like the organic, rotten odor that drifted from the holes at the street corners where the rats played. Like the sweet sour smell that came from the bottle in the paper bag beside the man.

Was this a mate for Melody? Had Max found him already?

“I’m getting hungry. How about you?” Jerry asked.

Now that Max thought about it, he was hungry.

The man tried to pet him again, but Max dodged the hand and circled his new friend’s legs like a nervous fish.

Jerry replaced the screw cap on his paper-bag bottle, stuck it in his grocery cart, and hefted himself to his feet. “I know a good place to eat,” he told Max. “Free food.” Jerry moseyed off.

Max couldn’t figure out if Jerry was pushing the cart or using the cart to prop himself up. Melody needed a healthy mate, not someone who drank from a paper bag and needed a cart to support himself.

Should he ditch this guy?

But he was hungry.

A mother and two kids approached.

“Kitty!” One of the children ran at Max. She was all pink clothes and red cheeks, and he knew her breath would smell like sour milk and Gummy Worms. Mom grabbed her hand and pulled her back, whispering something about a homeless man.

Max’s head shot up. Homeless? Melody had a home, so maybe a homeless man would be a good mate. But something told Max this guy, while having many of the requirements on Max’s list, might not be right for his mistress.