It was the fifth time she hit snooze that morning when she abruptly jumped out of bed. Her shift started at eight a.m.. Binx was swatting his cotton toy mouse across her bedroom floor. There wasn’t much left of the toy, as he had a knack for ripping them apart. She had rescued the tan cat a few years back when she saw him alongside the local highway. Seven-fifty a.m., she tossed her wet hair into a ponytail. “Thank God I get to wear scrubs Binx…” as she stumbled out of her bedroom, her cat run. . .
