Saturday, August 7, 2010
Westwood Rescue for Good Cats Minus One (fiction)
The young lady sat on the bed, a clipboard on her lap. Nathan Alan Willoughby sat as close to her as he could. Her pen flew over the paper, filling in the many questions.
"Is he the biggest cat here?" the young lady asked the rescue volunteer.
"Oh yes, all twenty pounds of him," the volunteer replied.
She looked at the huge cat. Nathan Alan Willoughby looked back. Only a few times had he seen this process of the clipboard and non-volunteer person in the Red Room of the Westwood Rescue for Good Cats. But, he remembered what the result was. The cat disappeared. While he didn't know where they went, he was so tired of this non-people filled room he didn't care what happened to him. Anything would be an improvement.
Besides, this young lady seemed nice. She smiled at him a lot - that had to be good. Nathan Alan Willoughby began to purr. The young lady looked around the room, then back at him. She turned her head to the volunteer, "Is he supposed to make that noise?"
"He's a very damaged cat. We believe his lungs are compromised, resulting in that rather alarming purr." The volunteer discreetly picked up a hair ball one of the other cats had hacked up.
The young lady scratched Nathan Alan Willoughby behind the ears, "Did you hear that? You're a very damaged cat." She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "It's okay. I'm damaged too. I know of a nice warm home where you will be loved."
Nathan Alan Willoughby stared straight in her eyes. He didn't know the definition of the words she used, but he knew the intensity of the emotion. A strange sensation overtook him. He was quivering. Home. He was going home.