A short time back, I offered a blog entry on what could only have been a hallucination. The little black kitty I saw by the side of a dark road. Perhaps it was a waking dream – a precognitive waking dream, at that. This month, I adopted a tiny black kitten from the Humane Society. I was going to get another kitten, but she was too sick to adopt out and all her siblings had already died. On whim, I stopped in days later to check on her and decided I would check and see if there might be another kitten I liked that was healthier. I went in the cat room and immediately saw the minute black furball in the first cage. I went over and spoke to her and she pressed herself to the bars, purring, mewing softly, flipping over on her back and writhing in an impressive display.
I opened the cage and she jumped out onto my shoulder and began snuggling up under my hair and nuzzling my neck. It was not likely at this point, that I would leave without her. And I didn’t.I loaded her in the van passenger floorboard next to the heating vent, sequestered in a cardboard box with holes punched in the sides. She didn’t like the box much and made continuous efforts to free herself from the hole between the top flaps. My journey home was not conducive to dealing with a frightened cat, since the roads in my area are hilly and curvy and safe drivers never take their eyes from the blacktop. That’s why I put her in the box. But she would have none of it, finally struggled free and scampered up to my shoulder, leaving the first of what would be many claw marks and punctures in my skin. But she rode there happily, forgoing the natural inclination to wrap herself around my face like that creature on Alien.
She looked out the window, watched the road, purred in my ear and waited for me to pull into my parking space at home.LS was asleep in my bed when I got home (she has, of late managed to get her insomniac self on the opposite schedule from me) I placed the kitten on her chest and she awoke to the joy only a new kitten can bring–she being a cat-lover herself. Soon, we were discussing names for the new family member. She suggested “Frodo” although I’m not sure she was being anything but a smart ass. The kitten had little white markings on each of her feet, but I refused to name her “Socks” or “Boots.” So when she crawled into my shoes and looked up at me mewing, she named herself. Shoes.