Wild At Heart
I stopped, as did the pizote. Standing just a few feet apart, we each tried to figure out if the other was who we remembered them to be. This pizote was definitely a bigger, stronger version of those in the pack that had called our porch their home for a month. He did, however, have that same, pleading look in his eye. The look that said I should go back inside and scare up a banana, or perhaps three if possible.