"Hey man, can you hold this for literally two seconds?" This guy at a hardware store parking lot just handed me a massive, incredibly heavy orange cat and sprinted into the store before I could even process what was happening. I was just standing next to my car, holding this absolute unit of a feline like a football. The cat didn't even care. He just stared up at me with these giant, unblinking green eyes and purred so hard my hands were vibrating. Two minutes passed. Then five. People walking into the store were giving me the weirdest looks, just some guy in a faded hoodie cradling a fifteen-pound orange cat in front of the sliding doors. I was starting to panic, thinking I'd just been chosen as the new guardian of a cursed animal, when the guy finally ran back out holding a single brass screw. He grabbed the cat, muttered, "Thanks, he hates the cart wheels," stuffed the cat into his canvas tote bag, and drove away in a beat-up Honda Civic. I still think about that cat. He felt like a sack of warm flour.