WEIRD & WONKY WORLD WRITING CHALLENGE

SmiLing

         SmiLing entered this loud and confusing world only to be abandoned in a cold, dark forest. My daughter Danielle and I drove approximately fifty miles to meet and adopt her.

         We had shared our home with two boisterous Shelties and were recently pet-free. The idea of cohabitating with a cat had never occurred to us. We were finally coming to terms with a furless environment. No one demanded our attention any more and we believed we had adapted quite well.

         Our feline- rescue- road- trip happened in response to a radio plea I'd heard. In her own words, a woman explained that she was fostering over forty cats that her three children had discovered dumped in a ditch. As the siblings walked away from their retreating school bus they noticed a few black cats scrabbling in the dirt. Running home they begged their mother to help them. Not wishing to belittle their strong feelings she followed the kids back to the drop off. She probably expected a few felines she could scoop up and carry home. In the end she was forced to make several trips back and forth to her house. With each armload she grew concerned. Who would abandon over forty cats and walk away? A few of the adult females were clearly pregnant as well. Since all of these cats were together and they were all black she surmised they had originated with a breeder. Not one behaved as if it were a wild, or outside cat. They accepted human touch and never attempted to elude her.

         This caring soul mentioned that two large dogs dominated her household and they had never been exposed to cats. She had introduced and released this black, furry mob to the newly built extension she and her husband planned to utilize as a rental unit. With so many mouths to feed and realizing the strays needed litter stations as well, she thought to appeal to the public. Would people be willing to adopt and/or support these poor animals?

         Not worrying about any what ifs we jumped into the car and hurried to answer this urgent call. We arrived to see many other concerned animal lovers showing their support. Many of us had stopped to purchase cat food and kitty litter. Most of us left with at least one new family member. How could we resist? These soft balls of gleaming black fur with bright, inquisitive eyes needed somewhere to live. They did not deserve to be thrown away as if they were trash.

         Danielle and I were drawn to a tiny black bundle with enormous, distinctive white whiskers. She sat and stared unblinkingly at us while we offered to scratch behind her alert ears. To me she resembled a pudgy Asian man sprouting a white Fu Manchu-styled moustache. Of course this inspired me to appoint a Chinese'ish moniker. Ling sounded about right and Mei would have been too common, or obvious, or so I believed. I joked about ing verbs and dismissed terrible ones such as Frowning or Growling. Mewling seemed too pathetic. What did I do? I chose SmiLing. At least we would be apt to smile and/or laugh every time we mentioned it. A happy name for our adopted kitten.

         We smuggled SmiLing into our home, but her presence did not go unnoticed. Hubby did not complain so much as roll his eyes and enquire as to why we'd done this impulsive thing. He even asked if we really wanted a cat. Duh, yes.

         My daughter and I attempted to placate him, the childhood cat lover, by claiming the newest family member was his birthday gift. Granted we were a few days early for that auspicious occasion, but nonetheless we tried. He did not buy our motives, yet he did not ignore the furball. Even he was not immune to the undeniable cuteness.

         As she matured, SmiLing showed us that her actual name should have been Hiding or Scaredy Cat. Timidity defined her. Reactions to new environments and scenarios pushed her to retreat and hide. Oh, she never ventured too far away from the offending action/person/animal/situation. She always watched wide-eyed and sitting ram-rod straight ready for flight if need be. If she had to cram herself under the couch or scramble to a safe do-not-touch-me height she'd do it. Cautious was her middle name.

         When the time came for Danielle to leave home SmiLing accompanied her. For the entire hours-long odyssey ensconced within a cat carrier propped upon the front seat, that feline protested the only way she could. Every thirty seconds without fail she meowed loudly and pitifully. She let it be known that she did not approve of this car trip and it made her feel miserable. No one had asked what she wanted.

         This torture would be repeated several times over the years, yet not once did SmiLing accept it quietly. She always complained. Each move seemed to be an affront, an impossible imposition. Danielle had to have known she did not like travel, not one bit. At the new abode, SmiLing would sulk and make herself scarce for several days. Adjusting, accepting took so much effort. She liked her equilibrium, her continuity, her everyday sameness.

         Sometimes, SmiLing would grace me with her presence as a guest. Most of her stay she wasn't too demanding. All she required was somewhere to scurry to if she sensed imminent peril and a warm spot to sunbathe. Surprisingly, she did not give my indoor grow op, okay, houseplants, a second glance. Not once did she swipe them to the floor, or attempt to uproot them. Nary a wee nibble tempted her.

         Of course, as a cherished visitor, she expected and received a fresh bowl of kibble in a timely manner accompanied by ice cold spring water. She was not willing to sacrifice this privilege, nor risk abject starvation. She had a figure to maintain and it was a far cry from her initial scrawny state. In fact, she grew to have a head that seemed too small for her body and her dainty feet were almost lost to sight.

          I believe she possessed telepathic powers. In the evenings, she'd glide silently into the livingroom and position herself at my feet. She stared and willed me to acknowledge her sudden appearance. When I did notice the regal presence, SmiLing leapt into my lap. I never encouraged this. She had arrived for her daily dose of physical affection. At this time, she needed me to cuddle and pet her. Any attempts on my part to take advantage of this relaxed state to brush her shining, black coat resulted in her immediate withdrawal. I got the message. She could groom herself thank you very much.

         After her return home and my services as a kitty spa were no longer necessary, I would discover indisputable evidence of her sojourn. Black, furry dust bunnies lingered everywhere. Had, God forbid, SmiLing been kidnapped, I had in my home enough material for DNA testing.

         I delighted in leaving enigmatic Facebook posts. SmiLing is no longer with us. Sure, I knew that statement hinted at her demise, but it was the truth. She had passed on, passed on to her actual abode. Perhaps she was trying to be gracious and leaving a gift for me. I just never considered myself to be a fur person.

         1228 words

         National Black Cat Appreciation Day