Probably why I went from one bad relationship to the next. I could find comfort in something fuzzy instead of the arms of another bad decision. Without considering it further, I pushed open the door and entered the cat room.
The scent of cat litter hit me in the face. The abundance of perfume couldn’t diffuse the smells of too many cats with too little bathroom space.
At least it was much quieter in here. One or two let out a soft mew, but for the most part, the cats were calm and quiet. The tension in my shoulders eased.
Cats shared a large play area, where they curled up together taking naps or batted around little stuffed mice. All except for one. A giant gray cat with long hair sat in a cage by itself without a single toy.
Alone.
My heart clenched. I knew the feeling. I stepped to the cage and put my fingers in the holes. The cat stared at me, bright yellow eyes sizing me up. I imagined something passed between us. A kind of understanding. We could be alone together, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
The door swung open, and the woman in the green apron entered. “Did you find a dog?”
I kept my eyes on the lonely cat. “I think I’ve decided on a cat instead.”
The woman lifted her eyebrows. “That so?” She shut the door behind her, muffling the incessant barking. She pointed to the fluffy gray cat. “This one doesn’t like other cats.”
“I don’t have any other cats.”
“She doesn’t like people much either.”
Maybe we would be kindred spirits. “That’s okay.”
The woman lifted her shoulders. “Fine. If you want, you can take her to the visit room. If you like her, you’ll need to fill out the forms and pay the adoption fee.”
My insides tightened. “What’s the fee?”
“Fifty for dogs, twenty for cats.”
Lucky for me, yesterday I’d found a washed twenty in the laundry room. I’d planned on using it to buy food, but this cat needed someone. There was enough tuna in the pantry for both of us. At least until I got access to the funds. How much longer could it take?
“Okay.”
The woman shook her head as if my wanting this cat was a stupid idea. She lifted the latch on the cage. The cat flattened gray ears against its striped head and growled. “Now come on, you. Be nice, and maybe this lady will take you home.”
She reached for the fur ball, and it made a terrible screeching sound but allowed her to pick it up without a fight. “Good thing she doesn’t have any claws, or I’d be shredded.”
As though to answer the woman’s claim, the cat did her best to churn her back feet and scramble out of the woman’s grasp.
This one wouldn’t be a friend to anyone. But before I could change my mind, the volunteer stepped out of the cat room and turned down the hall, leaving me no choice but to follow.
The woman opened the door to a small cinder block room the size of a tight closet. The smell of bleach and urine burned my nose. I sat on the folding chair in the corner. The woman tried her best to gently place the growling, convulsing ball of fluff on the floor but mostly ended up dropping the cat before she scrambled to get out of the room.
The door shut with a click, leaving me alone with the disgruntled creature. I stared at the cat. It crouched in the corner and stared at me. Apparently, I had as many social skills with cats as I did people.
I stood up and tried to gently step around the agitated creature blocking the door so I could tell the woman I’d changed my mind. The cat tilted her head and meowed. It was a pitiful sound. Nothing at all like the growling. She meowed again, and I swear I imagined pleading in that voice.
“You don’t really want to go back in that cage, do you?”
The cat blinked at me with big yellow eyes and settled down on the floor, splaying out her striped gray fur and tucking her paws under her chest. It didn’t seem so bad now. Maybe she didn’t like that volunteer. I regained my seat and watched the cat. She lifted one paw, and then the other, using her bristled tongue to clean her feet. She didn’t seem very social.
Still, I had nothing better to do, so I sat there and watched. When she’d finished both paws and used one to clean behind both ears, she rose and arched her back and yawned. With slow gliding steps, she explored the small space until eventually her little pink nose sought out my toes. Probably shouldn’t have worn flip-flops. At least she didn’t have claws.
The cat’s whiskers tickled my feet as she sniffed my toes, my shoes, and the ragged hem of my jeans. She rubbed her face on my leg. Followed by the rest of her long-haired body.
“Huh.”
My voice caught her attention, and she looked up at me, eyes big and searching. I remained still. Her head sunk down into her shoulders, and her tail twitched.
Uh-oh. Instinctively, I leaned back in my chair.
The cat pounced.
I sucked in a breath and gripped the sides of the chair.
The cat landed on me with soft feet, inquisitive eyes staring into my face. We sat there a moment, locked in a staring contest, until the cat spun in a circle and settled down.
Warmth covered my legs, and, after a few breaths, the cat started to vibrate. I laughed. “That’s a pretty strong purr you’ve got there.”
The door swung open, and the volunteer woman stepped in with wide eyes. “How’d you get her to do that?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. I guess she figured my lap was more comfortable than the floor.”
The cat raised her head, and the purr shifted into a growl. One thing was clear. This cat did not like that woman. My heart constricted. I knew what it was like to be stuck somewhere with people you didn’t like. I couldn’t leave this cat here to be shoved into a cage all by herself.
Without considering my safety, I reached under the cat and scooped her up. She fit comfortably in my arms, a surprisingly compliant soft ball of fur. She stayed curled there as I walked out of the room as if I had any idea what I was doing and past the baffled volunteer on my way to the front desk.
I fished the twenty out of my pocket. The woman at the desk pushed her glasses up on her nose, her eyes locked on the purring cat in my arms.
“Have you filled out the forms?”
“Not yet.”
This was completely irresponsible of me. I knew it, but knowing didn’t change anything. Crazy, sure, but I couldn’t leave the cat here anymore than my father could have left the cat in the dumpster. Despite reasonable logic, this cat gave me a connection to my father I wasn’t willing to give up. I’d figure out a way to feed both of us.
The woman behind the desk handed me a clipboard. “Fill these out. You can come back tomorrow to pick up your new pet.”
“Tomorrow?”
She bobbed blonde curls. “Policy.”
I sat on a hard chair in the waiting area and settled the fur ball on my lap, awkwardly trying to figure out how to write without squishing her. Finally, after giving enough information to apply for a passport, I cradled my new friend and returned the paperwork. The cat purred contently, which the woman at the desk frowned at.
“Why do I have to wait until tomorrow?”
The receptionist looked at me as if I was two crayons short of a box. “We have to get the papers filed, we have to get the cat ready to leave, and you’ll need a proper crate.”
Seemed to me they could file papers after I left, and the cat appeared plenty ready to go. Before I could respond, the woman in the green apron stepped through the swinging door that separated the lobby area from where they housed all the animals. The cat in my arms immediately tensed.