The Cat: Final Draft

It was a cold and rainy day and the cat sat on the edge of the steps, switching its tail back and forth slowly. The old rocking chairs on the porch stood, sentinels behind him, creaking back and forth slowly in the gentle breeze. The cat opened his yellow eyes wide and stretched, slowly, venturing forth into the light drizzle. He meandered along the front walkway and leapt lightly up onto the low brick wall that surrounded the yard. He watched the road, as if waiting for someone, and from time to time he patrolled up and down the length of the wall.

Finally, the headlights of a car appeared, twin swords cutting the mist. The cat watched as it pulled into the driveway. He jumped down and ran across the rough gravel to the door, meowing loudly as the man and woman walked towards the front steps. The man reached down to pet the cat with one hand, while opening the door with the other. She walked inside, leaving wet footsteps glistening on the ground. "Whose cat is this?" he asked her, and then laughed surprisedly, when the cat ran through the door and skidded across the slippery floor. Turning on the light, he followed, shutting the door behind them.

"Oh, you let him in the house? Jim, you know we can't keep him." she said, putting the mail down on the counter and bending down to check for a collar. "We don't have time to take care of him with the schedule at the hospital, and he's probably just lost!" Jim scratched his head. "He doesn't have a tag and I've always liked cats," he said stubbornly.

She pushed past him lightly, and walked into the living room where the cat was purring softly, asleep on one of the armchairs. "We should take him to the pound and see if someone is there to pick him up." she said. "Hey, kitty," she whispered. The cat opened one large yellow eye crabbily and then shut it again. He began to purr more persistently, and she stood up, not certain what to do.

Jim was watching from the doorway. "See?" he said. "He wants to stay!" He gestured at the cat, which was now sprawled out on the armchair, head on paws and back legs dangling over the edge of the seat. “Well, there’s nothing we can do today,” she said, walking back into the kitchen. Secretly, she didn't want to put him out any more than Jim did. “But I hope he knows that we have nothing to feed him!” Jim smiled, sitting down in the seat next to the cat and turning on the television.

The next afternoon when Jim got home, the cat was waiting on the wall for him again. That morning, Jim had gently scooped the cat up from his warm chair, and put him on the front porch, after repeated complaints from his wife. He had been hoping to see the little cat again, though he forced himself to be prepared for the worst. He opened the car door, and then the trunk. He slung the bag over his arm and picked up the purring cat, which had begun to rub against his leg. He walked through the door and set the cat down on the floor, opening the bag and pulling out a collar that fit in the palm of his hand. Jim sat down on the floor and put the collar on the cat. He then pulled out several cans of food, which he stacked in a cabinet.

Later, she opened the door to find the two sitting on the couch watching the television. The cat jumped down and began to rub against her leg. “He’s got a collar now,” said Jim smugly, grinning at her from his seat. She smiled, bending down and scratching the cat behind the ears. Somehow she knew that the cat would be staying.