Glad to be Inside

I ran into Mike yesterday on my walk downtown. He was wearing a big furry Russian-style hat and carrying bags of empty cans. "Good to see you," I said. "I love your hat, it looks great with your beard."
"Thanks, it's warm," he said. "Wow, Romeo has calmed down so much. Remember how he was when you first got him?"
"Now he's totally chilled out in his little red winter coat. What love can do," I said. "How are you?"
"I just received a card from my parents it read, Good luck with your recovery. We pray for you. We have a little gift for you when we see you. I haven't seen them since February. Do they think that's going to bring me forward? This pushes me back," he said.
"Do they live around here?"
"Yes, on Magnolia Street. I'm going to see my caseworker tomorrow and I'll bring the card to show her. Then I'll throw it away. When my cat Minky had to be put down in September my father said, get over it. I live alone. That cat was my child," he said. "You know, you had Lily and now you have Romeo. My father has his Min-Pin Brutus and when Brutus dies what am I going to say?" I looked at Mike. "I would never say get over it," he said.
"Of course not, you are a sensitive, smart, caring, person. Sadly, your father is not. Sometimes we don't get the love and acceptance from our parents and siblings and it hurts like hell but there are smart kind people who do understand. Let me say right now, I think you are a lovely person."
"But I pick up cans to pass the time of day. Isn't that sad?"
"You pick up cans to clear your head and be healthy and perform a job," I said.
"When I turned on the TV and saw all these guys being fired for sexual abuse it gave me PTSD. I had abuse from a teacher and again when I was 35 living at Water's Edge Apartments. A guy came in and went to town on me down there," he said. "So I get out and walk and I walk all the way to Wrentham, about ten miles a day, and then when I go back home I am tired and I am glad to be inside."