posted on Jul, 18 2015 @ 01:15 AM
Some years ago, I lived in an attic apartment, it was, as you might imagine, small. Cozy, if you prefer.
One night I go off to work, little realizing that my life was about to change. Not a lot, but noticeably.
The next morning I got home and discovered a cat curled up in my nice comfortable, if somewhat raggedy, wingback chair.
I was surprised. He must have slipped in the night before when I left for work.
"Hello." I said. He kinda looked up at me, meowed, and curled back up. As this was a pet-free apt. I reluctantly, as I'm a big time cat boi,
picked him up and tried to put him outside... Tried. Failed.
He reversed himself in a body length, and was back inside the apt. before I could react. He jumps back into my chair, plops himself down and just
looks at me.
I've been adopted.
So, I go back out and buy some kitty litter and a box, some food and a little milk...and we sat down and got to know each other a little better.
He was a mostly black cat with witchy green eyes, and three adorable little stockings on his two front paws and one back paw, the other black.
Naturally enough, I called him Tripod.
For about two months, he ruled the roost. My chair? His. He deigned to share it with me sometimes.
One night, I was home on my night off, I heard him scratching at the door wanting out. Now this was odd, because he hadn't, not once, wanted out
before in the two months he'd been living with me...
So I walk over to him, and ask him what the problem is... Obviously, I wasn't expecting an answer. I got one. He looked up at me with those
witchy-poo green eyes and meowed a couple of times. Translation: It's time to go.
I opened the door, and he brushed up against my leg, and disappeared into the night. Never saw him again.
Legends speak of spirits in other guises sent to test man. I sometimes wonder if that's what Tripod was?
Or just a cat on a mission with places to go, who just needed a break for a while.
I've wondered, too, why did he pick my apt.? I think I know why...my neighbors at the time were not pet people. Maybe he knew I was the only one
right there who'd take him in, after a, admittedly, rather weak attempt at removing him. I'm kinda glad I failed. My time with Tripod was a good
Now? Where ever I may be, there will always be room in the inn. A kindly spirit out in the dark sometimes needs a place to rest for a bit. I'll
always have one.
I hope Tripod got where ever it was he was headed. I think he did.