He always runs and hides before you get within five feet, but he’s not doing anything except lying there as still as a statue. Nothing at all is moving, not even the slight rise of his tiny body as he breathes.

My heart starts beating out of my chest painfully, blood rushing through my ears deafeningly. All previous rage is forgotten as a cold icy panic grips me inside, and I move even closer, crouching slowly, slightly afraid to touch the soft ginger fur. My hands are trembling ...