When a Cat Chooses You (again)

In all, we took in six foster cats over an 18-month spell from 2016-17. We had just arranged to pick up our next temporary cat but fate intervened the night before.

We used to occasionally feed a stray orange tabby we called Kevin who hung around outside our apartment building. He initially kept his distance but gradually came to accept a light pet or two along with his snack. If he saw us outside he’d come trotting up expectantly and would do his best to meow, though he never quite mastered it. We began to store a little jar of treats in our mailbox for Kevin’s visits.

One Friday evening Levy and I returned home from the gym and found Kevin waiting for us when we were parking our bikes. Levy went upstairs to start dinner and I reached into the mailbox for Kevin’s dinner when I became aware of something stirring underneath one of the cars. Kevin it seemed had brought a guest for this evening’s supper.

In the darkness, I could only make out the outline of a tiny kitten hiding behind the wheels of the car. The kitten froze when I approached and backed away from my outstretched hand but Kevin nudged her closer. I like to think he was vouching for me. Soon she smushed her cheek into my hand and began purring. I coaxed her away from the car to get a better look and that’s when I saw what a sorry state she was in.

She had a little pink string tied around her neck that appeared to have been cut. Had she been cut loose by a previous owner? Her eyes were almost closed over with infections and her tiny little ribs were poking out of her matted fur. She couldn’t have weighed much more than a pound.

She started to squirm so I set her back down. When I took a step up the stairs, she hopped up after me. So I went I up the first flight and saw her struggling over the stairs behind me. I kept going. At the fourth and final floor, she was still clambering up the concrete steps and I paused to let her catch up.

What are we going to do with you, little one?

I opened the front door to the sound and smell of dinner cooking and called into the apartment.

“Honey, we have a guest.”

The kitten strode right in with no hesitation. Momo and Hokke could only watch in stunned silence as our new friend trotted straight into the living room. In the light, we could see just how skinny and neglected she’d been. One of her eyes was almost completely covered while the other was only partially clear. Underneath the grime was a tortoiseshell coat and no tail. Not even the little hint of a tail like Hokke’s or the longer crooked zigzag Momo has. We gave her a much-needed bath and laid out a small amount of food. She purred as she ate, probably her first meal in days.

Realizing she was likely to have fleas and who knows what else, we tried to keep her separate from the other two. This effort was always doomed to failure as Momo knew how to open the doors of our apartment. Levy named her Sunny and we arranged to take her to the vet the next day. At this point we were still keeping up the pretense of taking her in for a while and finding her a good home.

The obvious truth was we had been chosen.

Again.

Written by Husband Sol