Stray kitty

A coupla nights ago, I went out to pick the lad up from work...around 11:00. I pulled into the country club parking lot and slid into a slot under a street light. There was only one other car there. Not more than two minutes after settling back, my cell phone rang and the lad informed me that he still had a lot to do and wouldn’t be out for a half an hour. So I settled back a little more and tuned into WGBH’s late night jazz. I had the window rolled down, enjoying the soft breezes and night time quiet.

The night silence was suddenly broken by a long string of meows. A little long haired gray tiger cat, probably not more than a year old, came wandering up the bank in front of the car. He started past me and about leaped out of his skin when I said, “Hi kitty.” He meowed several more times and walked in a wide arc around toward the rear of the car. I called him a few times, but there was no response. I settled back in my seat again.

At least ten minutes passed before I heard a muffled meow. He was still around. I stuck my head out the window and said, “Hi kitty. Where are you?”

“Mrrow.”

“Here kitty. Come here kitty.”

“Mrrowwww.”

Silence for several seconds.

And then another dainty “meow.”

I hung my head out the window and called him again. This time he shot out from behind the car and stopped on the pavement a few feet away from the window. I leaned out and extended my hand, but he ran a little further away.

I rearranged myself on the seat so that I could lean out the window and let my arms hang down the side of the car. He watched and I talked to him. Finally, he cautiously approached and nudged one of my hands with his head. I gave him a tiny little head scratch with one finger. That was kind of like breaking the dam. He stood on his hind legs and put his seven toed front paws against the side of the car and rubbed his head against my hands. Lots of little head butts. And he meowed. And purred. And gave me a gentle bite on the wrist...the kind that kitties give when they are overcome with affection. He luxuriated in his head scratches and under the chin scritches. He talked a mile a minute all the while. We carried on like that for quite some time.

Finally he sat back and eyed the distance to the open window. He crouched a bit and I could see it coming. He had every intention of jumping into the car with me. And I said, “NO!” Because, you know, if he’d jumped in the car with me, he’d have gone home with me.

This was a kitty who clearly didn’t have a home. He was very dirty and very thin. He needed to be combed and groomed. Oh, I wanted to bring him home, but I just couldn’t. Abbie would have a total nervous breakdown. But...I really wanted to let him jump in the car with me.

When the lad came out, kitty ran away. As I drove out of the parking lot I saw him sitting under a tree several feet away. I stopped and told him goodbye. He meowed back and gave me such a wistful look. Just about killed me.

And now, a couple of days later, I still want to bring him home. Part of me hopes he comes back the next time I’m there. The other part really, really hopes he doesn’t. I’d let him jump in the car this time and that would be the seal on the deal.