Monday, October 10, 2005
A visit
I was walking back from a friend's room. The night was cold, and my simple t-shirt was wholly inadequate. As I approached 26 Winchester Road, I saw a little figure dart across the road. It was a car I thought I had seen before, a mixture of orange tabby; long, thin, and fluffy. Instinctively I knelt down and called out to her, as I'm used to doing so to get a cats attention.
She saw me, meowed a hello, and darted over to me, first scoping out the immediate area to make sure she was safe. She came close enough to pet, and as I did so, she began purring. I heard a beeping, and suddenly realized her collar was emitting a beeping noise. It was one of those remote cat collars, used for finding your cat at night.
After a prolonged period of stroking, I decided to call it a night, but stopped at the steps of my building when I noticed the little creature was following me. I sat down on the front steps, and she leapt up onto my lap and curled up, purring loudly, chin propped up on her front paws.
Together, we sat that way for a long time as the night moved on, watching the world slowly unwind.
There was a screech of tires as a car pulled up. The driver stumbled out, drunk, and his car rolled back a few inches before settling. He pulled himself to his feet, and began relieving himself against the garden wall of a nearby house. After checking around for witnesses, he leaped back in and shot off down the street.
The stars were visible. My friend looked up at me and purred loudly, ever-so-slightly digging her claws into my knee. Her collar beeped and flashed again. I realized it was time to part. Time was short. With a light kiss on her forehead, I let the cat down, and closed the front door carefully, so as not to trap an errant whisker.
She saw me, meowed a hello, and darted over to me, first scoping out the immediate area to make sure she was safe. She came close enough to pet, and as I did so, she began purring. I heard a beeping, and suddenly realized her collar was emitting a beeping noise. It was one of those remote cat collars, used for finding your cat at night.
After a prolonged period of stroking, I decided to call it a night, but stopped at the steps of my building when I noticed the little creature was following me. I sat down on the front steps, and she leapt up onto my lap and curled up, purring loudly, chin propped up on her front paws.
Together, we sat that way for a long time as the night moved on, watching the world slowly unwind.
There was a screech of tires as a car pulled up. The driver stumbled out, drunk, and his car rolled back a few inches before settling. He pulled himself to his feet, and began relieving himself against the garden wall of a nearby house. After checking around for witnesses, he leaped back in and shot off down the street.
The stars were visible. My friend looked up at me and purred loudly, ever-so-slightly digging her claws into my knee. Her collar beeped and flashed again. I realized it was time to part. Time was short. With a light kiss on her forehead, I let the cat down, and closed the front door carefully, so as not to trap an errant whisker.
