John was alone. All alone. There wasn’t a single human besides him in the household, nor was there a pet or even a living being. Garfield was dead and buried, and John has had two years to deal with the death of his beloved pet. Odie didn’t last too much longer- a year, if he was right- but he did not have the sanity to remember that ordeal either. Liz didn’t want to give up on her beloved, and thought she could help him out of his pit of despair, but she had no choice but to leave him when he thought she was a “Monday monster” and tossed a chipped brick at her. The news had a field day with his gripping story, but couldn’t care a whit about his mental health. He sat, alone, a poor man with no companions to assist him in his dying days.

“Garfield?” John mumbled, his mind muddled as he searched through the closets. “It’s time to go to the vet, Garfield!” He said, before chuckling. “I bet he’s in the bathroom.” He whispered to his mirror, before sneaking into the small, broken-down room that was supposed to house his bath. He opened the drawer below the sink, screaming “GARFIELD!” and picked up a small bag. “Aha! Found you. Now, stop complaining. We’re going to the vet if you like it or not.” He said, admonishing the bag. He then set the bag aside, sat on the John and wept. He wept as no other man had before, his tears leaving a large puddle around his feet. His only clothing was a pair of broken-up jeans and a clip-on tie. He gripped the bag in a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Garfield… It’ll be alright. The vet won’t bite.” He suddenly stopped his crying and went into a fit of laughter on the ground, nearly suffocating himself. “Garfield, that’s not a donut- that’s a toaster!” He said, between his intense chuckles.

John was never seen after that day. The police reported a young man overdosing on anti-depressant drugs, and his obituary was scarcely two sentences. Somedays, however, in the alleyway of Detroit, some people can still swear they hear a man mumbling about his cat, and how he’s got to someday get him a new alarm clock.

“Garfield…?”