Mr Scruffy has a tawny mottled coat. His bony spine shows clearly as he trots around kitty town. Sometimes he comes to my sliding glass door and looks in, meowing.

Mr Scruffy is one the neediest cats I've ever met. He follows you around constantly, practically howling. "Love me! Somebody left me once! Please, somebody want me!"

But nobody wants Mr Scruffy. Even when indoors and fully fed, he still follows you around like a shell-shocked child, meowing. It's as if he's listening for your response, to assure himself you're still there. You can't take a cat like that. Not in this economy. He looks old and sick. And he shits outside the catbox.

Mr Scruffy breaks my heart. I wish I could take him in; that I could be the one to want him. I wish I could be Miranda July to Scruffy's Future. But I can't. I've got my own cat to care for, and an unsteady income.

I see my neighbors interacting with Mr Scruffy, leading him to bowls of food. But no one wants to take him into their home. Even the other cats stay away from him. As if he's bad luck. Poor Bad Luck Scruff. What do we do? Where will he go? Who will love him?