Personal Essays

The Kitten In My Window

Saturday, August 2, 2008 was the Day. 11:00 a.m. was the Time. Three humans and one small, thin kitten walked up the sidewalk and knocked on our door. Carol and I were ready and waiting, of course. We had spent the morning getting things set up for our new friend. We had opened up the box of carefully packed brushes, cat toys, litter scoops and litter boxes, which we had packed away nearly a year and a half ago. I had already walked down to the local grocery store and purchased a bag of litter and a bag of kitten food. Carol had put a plastic liner in the litter box and set out two little bowls, one for food and one for water. The day before, I had stopped at a pet store and gotten a new scratching post and one of those flat cardboard scratching things in hopes of preserving most of our furniture. Yes, we were ready. The big question was, how would this cat like his new companions and his new home? It didn’t take long to get an answer.

After letting our friends in at the front door, we all went into the dining room and sat down around the table, except for the cat, who immediately jumped up on top of the bookshelf from which there is a view out a window. He stayed there a moment and then made a tour of everyone’s lap. He then went out to make sure the living room met his standards. As he headed for the kitchen we showed him where the litter box was located. He approved of the location and went into the kitchen to sample the kitten food I had gotten for him. That also was approved. Having decided that this new place would be acceptable, he returned to the bookshelf under the window and went to sleep. He was home. There was only one thing left to do, now, and that was to name him.
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