|
|
Winter's Cat© 1998 by Casey AllenI first saw her from about 40 yards away. She was a beautiful little thing. Her fur was a tawny brown with small splotches of gold around her chest and face. Her paws were white. Most would have no doubt that she was an ordinary moggie, and I would have to agree. She was no part purebred whatsoever. She was dainty and small and so ornamental, like a charm for a bracelet. She sat outside my apartment building and cleaned and preened herself as if she had caught a mouse and had just finished it, but there was no blood on her spotless coat. She certainly seemed small against the giant of winter that was upon us. I remember it was cold that day. The outside thermometer said it was -30 and the hoarfrost covered everything in sight. It was cold but it was very beautiful. If I had a camera I would have taken a picture, but even that would not have done justice to the scene. A painting could never have captured the hues and subtle nuances of reflected prismatic light on the snow. There was the cat, dark and auspicious, while all around her was a blanket of white, broken only by little hedge limbs sticking out here and there. Every once in a while a bough had leaned over and made a natural alcove. Here and there, little tiny caves made by tree branches and ice tempted imaginary young explorer ghosts who were seeking new adventures and shelters. Against the apartment lay a row of such hedges. They added a lot of beauty to the apartment building wall. The sun was already setting as I was coming home and the shadows made everything loom large against the cat like spirits trying unsuccessfully to scare her and make her run away. In sharp contrast, the lights inside the building cast her shadow in the other direction, like a tiger battling the underworld for control of her destiny. As I approached the apartment, she stopped preening herself. She examined me for a second or two and then, deciding I might be a friend, she stood up. She stretched two ways. First like a Halloween cat with her back arched and paws scrunched close and then she reversed her movement and made her body long and low. She opened her mouth and the visible breath of air that escaped from it carried a sound that was greeting from a cat to a man. The high pitched, friendly meowing told me that I was expected to stop and stroke her fur and let her know how pleasant and wonderful she was. I bent over and scratched her ears and gave her a nice petting. She let me know how much she appreciated it by rolling her head into my hand and rubbing her chin against my finger. Then, each time I ran my hand along her back she would arch her tail up and try to keep contact with me for as long as possible. She stropped against my legs and made a big production of our greeting. I think she liked me a lot. I had to admit, if my apartment weren't a no-pets place I would have taken her inside right there and then. I lived alone. Many times I longed for company and needed some loving kindness myself. This cat would be able to provide me with that, even if she was just a small little animal. But I knew she probably belonged to someone else anyway and they would, most likely, be very upset if she didn't come home that night. I continued to pet her and tell her what a special girl she was and she began purring at me, letting me know that I wasn't too bad myself. She spread her whiskers as if to smile at me and I scratched her under her chin some more. However, I was starting to feel very cold and as much as I wanted to continue being with her, I had to get inside or my fingers and toes would get frostbite. I began to explain to her, as if she could understand, that I had to go and that maybe she should go home. She rolled onto her back at my feet and rubbed against my shins even harder, like she knew what I was saying. I patted her one more time and straightened up decisively. I walked to the door as she stood behind me looking perplexed, and maybe a little hurt, at my leaving. Then when I had gotten the apartment door open she quickly got up and started walking towards me. I knew I couldn't let her in, as much as I wanted to. I closed the door quickly with an admonishment to her to "go on home!" Once I got inside my apartment, I was grateful to get inside at last. As was my habit I wore running shoes all the time and they just weren't cutting it against the cold, even in the short, three block, walk I took to get home. My apartment was warm and I quickly thawed out. I had a very nice supper that night and went to bed warm and cozy; happy that I had some friendship that afternoon. The next morning I woke up and had a perfect breakfast. After a leisurely time to get ready I returned outside for my daily walk back to work. When I stepped outside it seemed even colder that morning than it was the previous night. I thought of the little cat and wondered when I would see her again. Then as I turned my back towards the street to ward off the wind I did see her. She was lying in one of the alcoves against the apartment under my bedroom window. Her paws were tucked under her and she was resting her head on a lump of dirt. I called to her but she did not look at me. I called again and again, there was no response. I stopped smiling and went to her. Then I realized she was frozen to that spot on the ground outside my window, and she was as hard as ice. My guilt welled up inside me. She could have been safe, warm, and loved inside with me and I knew she wanted to come inside the night before. While I stayed warm and comfortable she had died slowly outside my window. I guess she truly had no place else to go and since I didn't take her, Winter took her to his house and made her his own.
|
