Cricket

Readers who drift over here from my other blog may remember the little bit of Cricket's story that I posted. That story has been revised to the tip of its whiskers and back now. Here is the rewrite of that original scene, plus one other scene.

From the shadows at the back of the steel cage, two green eyes glowed. For weeks, people had come into the shelter in search of the perfect pet. Each time the bell over the door jingled, the kitten rubbed herself against the bars in hopes of being touched; and each time, she was passed over.

There was a young woman with her son a few days ago. The boy poked his fingers into the crate and scratched her between the ears. She pushed her head against him and rattled her ribs with her tiny purr. When the boy started sneezing, they left immediately.

Later, a large woman clumped into the room. She had her hair piled high on her head and she reeked of lavender. She tipped her chin up at the sight of the kitten and sniffed, “Black cats are bad luck.” She took home an orange tabby with a runny nose.

A man with hunched shoulders came in next. Black bristles covered his face. At the smell of him, the kitten puffed herself up, trying to look larger than she really was. Her hair stood in spikes along the ridge of her back. The man snarled at her and then chose a solid dog that was as dark and surly as he was.

Others had come and gone. Some of them chose pets and some of them just came to look. When no one was there, the lady behind the desk would come, open the door of her cage, and stroke the kitten’s back. It felt delicious. She would whisper to her, “I would take you home with me today, but my landlord doesn’t allow pets in the apartments.” Her eyes looked sad.

After awhile, the kitten stopped coming to the front of the cage when visitors arrived. She simply folded her paws beneath her and watched as the parade of people passed.

(fast forward a bit)

The next few weeks were very pleasant for Cricket. She spent her waking hours exploring her new home. She sniffed every inch of the apartment. She batted at the fringe along the bottom of the bedspread. She kneaded her claws into the thick fur that was all over the floor. She made Delores laugh when she unrolled a whole roll of toilet paper in the bathroom. She washed herself after each meal and took her naps in the sunbeams by the windows. She also spent many long hours in Delores’ lap having her fur stroked.

One Tuesday while Delores was out shopping, Cricket curled up in the corner of the sofa for a nap. She liked the way her jet-black fur blended so well with the dark green fabric. She was in a deep sleep when Delores arrived home. The tip of her ear twitched at the rustle of the grocery bags, but she did not stir.

It wasn’t until she sensed a dark shape descending upon her that she startled awake. Delores was about to sit on her. The kitten reacted in a panic. She jabbed the old woman in the leg with her claws. Delores tried to jump up, but the toe of her shoe caught on the carpet and she tumbled headlong into a heap on the floor with a shriek.

When Cricket’s heart stopped pounding and her fur had settled, she crept out from under the footstool where she had hidden during the commotion. Delores lay very still. Cricket sniffed her face and hair and jumped when the woman groaned.

A neighbor came running. Soon there was the sound of a siren, and Cricket retreated under the footstool again. Many noisy feet went past. The kitten could hear the voice of the kind man from the other room. In a subdued tone, he talked about broken hips and hospitals. He sounded anxious so she stayed hidden. Men in coats that smelled of smoke carried Delores out and the apartment was quiet again. It stayed quiet for a very long time. Cricket ate, washed herself and took a nap on Delores’ bed.

She woke to the sound of the key in the door. She stretched herself and strolled into the kitchen to find the kind man standing there.

“Well, there you are, Cricket. You will be happy to know that mother is going to be fine. She isn’t angry with you and neither am I.” His voice was gentle and Cricket rubbed herself against him as he talked, weaving in and out of his legs.

“I have already spoken to a friend who has two young children. You are going to go live with his family. We think that would be best.