MEOW

HERE KITTY, KITTY

 

A beautiful white Persian cat has taken over my backyard wall. She sleeps peacefully, curled so I can only glimpse her whiskers. Sometimes I catch her grooming herself, just in case Tommy, a brown and white manx, comes calling. She has a loud and squeaky meow that creeps into my dreams now and then. I dislike the sound but never chase the cat away. Actually, she's somewhat of a pistol. Silently she paces in front of her, showing off her coat, large paws and curling claws. But with all of her bravado, I've never seen her attempt to climb the wall. Nor have I ever heard a single person calling 'Here, Kitty, here Kitty,' or ' Max, come home.' I have named the cat 'Czarina' and click my tongue to her, suggesting she succumb to the manx below her. She ignores us both.

 

Tonight is another gorgeous night in Miami. The moon looks perfectly round. It's whiteness defies the sun. Only stray wisps of narrow gray clouds occasionally disturb the moon but soon fly quickly on. The vision deserves applause. I give it and don't care at all if my neighbors hear some lunatic applauding alone in the back yard.

 

The morning brings a cool drizzling rain. Czarina is nowhere in sight. The manx can be anywhere, inside a trash can, in somebody's basement. I crooked smile comes across my face as I picture him holding an umbrella over my lady, Czarina. It's almost like Dorothy's bewilderment on the yellow brick road when reality disappeared and a lion could talk, a scarecrow could dance. I stay inside but look out of my window often, too often, and forget to put my laundry in the washing machine.

 

My fixation is getting to me. My phone rings often and I make short shrift of the friends who think I have passed on. Today is the day I am going walking, maybe to the super market, a movie. Perhaps I'll surprise Naomi, my friend who nags me the most to go to lunch, and invite her to my place. I do it. She is delighted and will be here at one. I get busy fixing her favorite lunch, tuna salad with lots of mayo, chopped celery stalks by the dozen, crushed walnuts and lots of pepper. My freezer is full of frozen Pillsbury rolls. Canned asparagus, the last big, rosy tomato in my fridge will be great. Lord Gray's tea and cookies will be just right for two.

 

While I am doing the small amount of work necessary for company, I notice Czarina isn't watching me watch her. The manx is sitting on his haunches looking up, its ears pointed, surely listening for her meow. A loud male's voice is calling, 'Here Maxi, here Maxi!' That must be the manx he's calling. The male doesn't move. He just sits and sits until his leach is attached to his collar by his supposed owner. He makes a guttural noise and has to be pulled away. Czarina somehow knows trouble is brewing for her male friend and  seems to have come from outer space. She leaps gracefully from the wall  and follows them both.

 

I can see the owner trying to chase Czarina away but she stays steadfastly behind the two of them. I watch and wait, call often, 'Here, Czarina, come home kitty.' She doesn't know she has a name and ignores me. Night is on us again. Stars are hiding. My beautiful white Czarina has simply disappeared. I am utterly distraught and force myself back into civilization, come close to buying a kitten. I look in pet store windows, in alley ways. No Czarina like cat can be found. I turn away the gray stripes, the angoras, the black cats with yellow/green eyes. Newspaper ads of cats and dogs for sale, lost, found animals don't interest me.

 

A familiar sound, soft and sweet comes thru the twilight. On the top of my garden wall sits Czarina. On the ground, walking, falling over and over, are three precious, adorable white Persian kittens, followed by a Manx on a leash.