I found Fitz sitting on a rock next to a tree under a bridge about two miles away down a country road from where I lived.
I had gone to check out a house for rent. It was a beautiful fall day, just a little chilly and since the house was easily in walking distance, I thought I would just go on down, check out the neighborhood and peek in the windows like any good, nosy, prospective renter would do.
I don’t know why, but after seeing the house, having had good vibes from it, I thought, why not, let’s explore the neighborhood some more. I like this house.
When I start exploring, I have a hard time stopping.
And that is where I found my Fitz, a mile more down a gorgeous, bucolic, country road.
I had thought I heard something as I passed over that bridge. Were my extra sensory, extraordinary kitten meow sensors springing back to life from way past in my childhood? Noooo??
Kitty? I said in a soft, whispered question.
Up pops a face from behind the bridge post, a beautiful light grey kitty looking at me with big blue eyes.
No, I shouted to myself in my head! No, No, No!
I will not have this happen to me. I am not ready for a cat.
I had tragically and stupidly, lost a pure black stray, Hollingsworth, that I had adopted more than a year ago as an outdoor cat, to feline distemper. I was still hurt and very angry at myself for not getting him corralled and into the vet for shots. Never again.
I turned around and kept walking up the road. Do not look back, I told myself.
My next cat was going to be a yellow, tigered striped male I was going to adopt from the shelter when I was good and ready…all tested for feline distemper…all shots given and ready to go!
That cat at the bridge had a home on one of the farms or houses here, I was just sure of it.
And yet in my heart, I just knew.
Walked about a quarter of a mile and then turned around.
Looking around the corner of the bridge, there he was, sitting on a rock, practically hugging a tree. He looked up at me in surprise, then started meowing like the dickens and ran up to me.
He did not stop meowing.
He meowed as I scooped him up in my now discarded jacket.
He meowed as I dragged him to each and every house and farm nearby, nearly losing him in the process into the jaws of a home owners 2 huge dogs…asking him…whether he had ever seen this cat, which was just in the process of frantically crawling up my face to the top of my head.
Oh, no, he said, but he did know that there was a problem with people dropping off unwanted pets in this section of the country.
Out of site…out of mind.
That cat continued to meow, every second, as I walked with him bundled up, trudging all the way back to my apartment two miles away.
He was a cute, if annoying little bundle of fur. Could not believe he would not shut up!
I would call the animal shelter when I got back, do my duty and make sure he got his forever home with the right person.
Opened the door to my apartment, unwrapped him onto the chair.
Not one meow.
He just looked around and promptly curled up in the quilt, very content.
Cats know when they have come home.
PS…I actually did call the animal shelter soon after. They were not open that day. Later...I did post flyers also. Lucky for me...no calls.
Oh, and that cute house. Well, they did not allow cats
Too bad for them. They had lost out on a really good tenant who owned a really fantastic cat.
copyright Stepka 2011