For the past month or so, en route to Panera every morning, I see one peeking at me through the gates in the back of a swanky apartment building. I always stop and say hi, but she runs the moment she sees me.
On Sunday, there she was on the sidewalk coiffing like she had a big date. “Hmm, meeting some Tom are ya?” Surprisingly she didn’t run and actually let me pet her. Was I smitten since she looked just like Fluffy, my very first cat. A lovely shade of gray that if she came with boobs and legs (and an agent) could have easily been Miss Clairol.
What should I do? It was raining, no one was around. I rang the bell to the locked building where I first saw her, but no one came.
I scooped her into my hoodie and took her home ironically resembling Snoop Dog.
Out came the litter box from beneath the sink I washed and dried. While she was busy investigating I ran out to get litter and food, coffee for me.
She at once initiated everything pleasing me as if to say, yeah, I like it here, putting me in kitty heaven.
I decided to name her Mary after my pal Mary Goggin who has four cats of her own…a big rescue gal I’ve been speaking to a lot lately.
Cut to following day.
There are posters all over the place looking for Juanita…have you seen her…we uz hart brocen. Shit!!!
Having too much integrity for my own good because the big question is…if you’re so fucking hart brocen what the hell is she doing gallivanting around Park and 86th at 6 in the morning, yet I call them.
She belongs to Enrico the super who sobs when he sees her. Apparently she escape tru da wendo, he tells me. I say, “Well, can’t you add a screen to the wendo, even offering to spring for it. “Si Si, he says…I go get sca-een.”
I bid Mary adieu and that’s that, if you don’t count the first-class weep I had when they left. I even gave Enrico the food and litter and the stuffed squirrel I paid 12 bucks for.
I always look for the grace in any situation, so in this one I saw how both Marys made me see, how sweet it would be to have a cat.