Kitties in the Night

I’m walking to the C-Note when I see a cute black cat, and I lean over and make those little kissy sounds, drawing her attention. I hold out my hand kissy kissy and rub thumb and fingers together as if holding something appealing but You’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing.* I’m sure she’s going to bolt like all the others but no! She hops on over! Positions herself, ready to be petted. So there I go stroking the top of her head and around the ears, stroking her cheek. And now she’s walking back and forth bumping her tail under my hand, and I can feel her vibrating.

This feels good, this is just what I needed, a little creature comfort with a little creature. Another living being. So I kneel down and she actually puts her paws on my lap. Oh! Such a darling kitty! And she crouches like she wants to jump up higher, so I rise up and she rises with me. She’s hanging by her claws and I’m trying to pry her off Easy kitty, reaching under her front legs but it’s a hard angle, and she’s a moving target climbing me like a tree. Is she going for the throat? She drops and I start to walk away, but she comes after me and I walk faster and she walks faster. Now I’m running thinking It’s always the same. Eventually I stop and catch my breath and straighten out my shirt and jeans. This is the last time, never again. I’m going to stay away from kitties in the night, but I suspect I never will.

* This is my internal critic, whom I sometimes refer to as John Sanchez. To be explained.