Story 43/1001

• lip
• advice
• belly

It was a scruffy looking thing. Its fur was an unappealing combination of brown, yellow and white. At first I just passed by it every morning, but after a while I got interested in it.

Why isn’t it going away? Why is it always at that one place, just below our building’s stairs? Why is it always silent?

One morning I left some food for it. It didn’t seem thankful, in fact, the tiny thing ran away from me.

But I came back the next morning. And the next.

I found out, from an old lady on the first floor, that it used to be really loud, but then a grumpy old man threw a bucket of water on it.

It hasn’t meowed since then.

That same day, it didn’t run away from me. I carefully put the food at the corner and waited. Maybe it was ready to approach me.

It wasn’t.

It just stared at me until I left, but then I heard it munching.

That was the first time an animal made me smile.

The next day, the cat approached me. I waited until the cat ate.

I don’t know what I was waiting for, but after the meal, the cat laid down on its back and showed me its belly.

A few more days passed before the cat started jumping in my arms after a meal. I noticed the cat has beautiful blue eyes. But when I leaned it to look at them from up close, the cat scratched my lip.

I walked right past it next morning. When I came home in the evening, the cat was sitting at the top of the stairs.

Was this the way cats apologize? I sat next to the cat.

“I told my coworkers about you. They told me I was wrong to lean in so close to a stray cat. It is solid advice, yes.”

I looked at the cat. He was watching me, like he can understand everything I’m saying.

“If you’re not a stray anymore, will you meow again?”

That night he meowed in our home.