He arrived as others had--uninvited but without a choice. Someone moved and he was left behind--a sad story with no place to go. Once upon a time he'd been well cared-for, warm and dry and fed. Now the dangerous streets were his home--hungry and filthy and frightened.
This time it didn't take much convincing. He would be better off in a home he hadn't chosen. At least it was warm, and there was food. The big cats who lived there were OK--maybe a little too cheerful, a little too touchy-feely....small price to pay.
It's been a couple of years now. The once-nameless, homeless cat dressed in a ragged and flea-bitten suit is now sleek and shiny in his fancy tuxedo. Quite a looker, with an appetite to match. He's sitting under my chair as I write this, and I can hear him purring for no particular reason--or maybe for every reason.
As I hear the strains of his song, I think how much we have in common--and wonder if my gratitude will ever match his.
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(c) Fiechter, 2015
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