Heart Magic (long version)

Heart Magic

The pedestrians shuffled past me as the lunch break office workers returned to their work. I continued playing my guitar, thanking those who stopped to listen and toss a bill or two into the open guitar case. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bedraggled old black cat slink up to the guitar case, get in, and curl up for a nap. The feline looked as though better days were behind her. Bending down, I scratched her head behind her ears.

“Old girl, you look like you could drink some water and maybe a bit of my sandwich.” I quietly told her. Taking the bottle of water from my backpack and a small paper cup, I offered her water. The intense look in her yellow eyes made me feel she was judging my worth. I pulled some shredded chicken meat from my sandwich, offered it to her, and asked, “How long have you been on the run?” She blinked as her rough tongue removed the morsels from my fingertips.

Picking up my guitar, I played a soothing tune for the cat. I was mesmerized by the feline purring loudly and making herself feel at home in the guitar case. I continued playing, thanking those who listened, tipped, and asked about the cat.

“How did you train the cat to stay in your guitar case?”

“Your kindness to an old cat shows the compassion in your soul.”

“Sorry, fella, she looks like she’s at her last stop.”

At the end of my two hours of entertaining the public, the cat slowly rose to her feet, stretching each of her legs. She stepped out of the case and sat down, staring at me.

I stored the guitar in the case and offered the cat more water and the remains of my sandwich, which she ate ravenously as I walked away.
“Hey, fella! You’re walking too fast. The cat is falling behind!” One of the workers called out to me.

I turned around, and indeed, the black cat was following me. I waited for the cat to come closer; it sat down a foot away from me.

“Sweetie, I don’t have any more food in my backpack.”

The cat swished its tail a couple of times and stood up. She walked up to me and sat down again. The pupils in her yellow eyes grew more prominent. She purred and then yowled at me.

All the sounds of traffic, birds chirping in the trees, and the breeze blowing through the street stopped. My mind stopped thinking of why I could not care for a cat, and a rush of thoughts of why I needed this cat filled my mind. My heart swelled. Emptying my backpack, I knelt before her, holding the bag open. She stepped into it, purring and curled up.

That was when I realized she had picked me to see to her comfort for the remainder of her days.

Walking back to my apartment on the tree-line sidewalk, I could feel the cat purring within the backpack. I know next to nothing about what to feed and care for a cat. When I moved into the apartment, there was a no pets allowed sign on the front of the building. My apartment was on the second floor on the opposite side of the building from the rental office. Maybe the cat would be quiet if I left plenty of food out for it.

Arriving at my building, I was in luck. The building manager had posted a message he would be out of the office until 4:30 p.m. As long as the cat remained quiet, I could run to the pet store to find out what supplies I needed for the cat.

Unlocking my apartment door, I felt the cat move within the backpack. I whispered, “It’s okay, we’ll be inside in just a moment.”

“Hi, Jason! How did your lunchtime serenade go?” My neighbor, Anna, asked.

“Oh, Hi Anna! It went well, I think. I just returned and need to get inside. You know, nature calls. I’ll see you later.”

“By all means, go!” Anna replied as she stepped toward the stairs.

Once inside, I breathed deeply, placed my case on the couch, and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Removing the backpack and placing it on the bed, I gently whispered, cat, we’re in my apartment, in the bedroom. I’ll let you out. Please don’t slap my face.”

Unzipping the bag, I stepped back. All I could see were the cat’s immense yellow eyes glowing within the dark confines of the pack.
“It’s okay; you’ll be safe here for a little while. I don’t know how this will work out. I don’t even know if you’re housebroken.”

Pulling out my cell phone, I typed, “What does a cat need to survive inside an apartment?” The answer came back with a list of items: Cat food, water, litterbox, cat litter, a box or comfortable enclosure to retreat into, a toy or two, and quiet human companionship.

Okay, I can cover most of the list, but how do I keep you quiet when I go to work? Playing the guitar is only a side hustle. I work part-time at a bicycle shop from 8 a.m. to Noon and cover the afternoon shift of 2:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. at the Precious Animals Clinic. That’s it! I’ll ask my boss, Dr. Avery, what I should do.

“Cat, I will keep you in the bathroom with the door shut while I’m out. Please be quiet while I’m gone. I’ll bring home supplies after work.

***
“Hi, Jason! How did your noon music gig go?” Mrs. Anderson asked as I walked through the front door.

“It went well. Aside from receiving more tips today, an old black cat took possession of my guitar case to nap in.” I replied.

“You know the old wives’ tale that black cats are minions in witchcraft?” Mrs. Anderson asked.

“I’ve heard of it, but really, this is 2023. There are no witches. This black cat looks pretty old. I brought her home with me. Would you give me a list of things I should get for her to make her comfortable?” I asked.

“Of course I will, Jason. I’ll cover the front office while you return home and bring the old cat here so Dr. Avery can take a look at her.” Mrs. Anderson directed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Anderson, but should I check in with Dr. Avery first to ensure he’s okay with me bringing the cat to work?” I asked.

“Dr. Avery should be done with his last patient. Check the post-op room.”

I heard the water faucet running as I stepped into the recovery room. Dr. Avery was wiping down the counters and the operating table.

“Hi, Dr. Avery, I have a couple of questions. Is now a good time?” I asked.

“Sure, Jason, what’s the matter?” Dr. Avery replied.

“I was adopted by an old black cat at my noon music gig. I have her at my apartment. Would you have time to look at her this afternoon?” I asked.

Drying his hands, Dr. Avery looked over the top of his glasses at me.

“How did this adoption take place?”

“The cat napped in my guitar case for two hours while I played, and then she followed me home,” I replied.

“How old does she appear to be?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t have a chance to check her teeth. I have her secured in my apartment now. Mrs. Anderson suggested I bring her to you for a quick examination if you have time.” I replied.

Dr. Avery turned to the computer behind him, tapping the keyboard, and his calendar appeared. “If you go retrieve the cat now, I’ll work her into my schedule today.”

“Thank you, Dr. Avery. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”

I ran back to my apartment. With the backpack open, I held it close to the floor for the cat to get in it. Much to my surprise, the cat complied.

Fifteen minutes later, I stood beside the exam table as Dr. Avery listened to the cat’s heartbeat and abdomen. Dr. Avery directed me to hold the cat securely as he opened her mouth to look at her teeth and gums. Next, he cleaned her leg and drew blood for a sample.

“Jason, she appears to be ten years old. She still has all her teeth, her gums look good, and her muscles are firm. There are no tattoos on her. At some point, someone cared for this cat and had her neutered. She’s not what I would call an old cat; middle-aged is more like it.

“What do you mean by “neutered”? I asked.

“She was operated on to prevent her from having kittens,” Dr. Avery advised.

“So, she’s healthy?”

“Yes. She probably escaped her home. You should contact Animal Control or feline rescue offices to see if anyone has reported a lost cat. Otherwise, you are now this cat’s pride and joy.”

***

I named the cat “Kat”. The name was not very original, but she came to me when I called her “Kat.” I was amazed at how quiet she could be. She and her litter box share my bedroom. To my knowledge, the rental manager never knew I had a cat until the fire.

I had fallen asleep while studying for the next day’s history test. The book was lying across my chest. Kat was sitting on top of the book, frantically battering my face. I awakened to the smell of smoke. Grabbing my wallet and stuffing Kat into my backpack, I rushed outside. No one else was standing outside. Running to the nearest fire alarm, I pressed the red button. I could feel Kat twisting within the bag on my back. I ran down the sidewalk to the second fire alarm and pushed it. With both alarms activated, apartment doors opened, and people came out coughing and yelling for their families and neighbors.

I was moving my backpack to my left shoulder, hugging the bag with my left arm. I opened the bag just enough to see Kat’s head and reassure her.

“I’m glad you and Kat are safe.” The rental manager said, stepping up behind me.

“How do you know about Kat?” I asked.

“I’ve known about Kat since the day you brought in a potty box and litter.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I asked.

“I was waiting for you to tell me. How is it you were out of your apartment first to pull the fire alarms?” He asked.

“I fell asleep studying for a history test with the book on my chest. Kat jumped on the book, slapping me to wake up.”

“So, Kat is the true hero this night.” The rental manager said as Kat popped her head out of the bag and yowled.

THE END