The Cat Lady in the Yellow House

  Jeanette was already late for her shift at the Giant Killer Coffee House when she spotted the stray. It was grey calico sniffing the snow beside the plowed sidewalk. It gave a cry to her.

   Jeanette squatted, balancing herself and her over loaded knapsack. She made kissing noises and took off her mittens to offer the back of her hand for a sniff. The stray approached.

   “Hey, Dusty. Are you Dusty? Is that your name?” she asked. Of course, it probably wasn’t her name, but it was somewhere to start a friendship with. She dug in her backpack and found a cat treat in the bottom under her books. She plucked some lint off the treat and polished it up and then offered it.

   The stray overcame its fear to nibble. Jeanette gave it light knuckle rubs across its head. She heard purring through the crunching munching sounds.

   “Where do you live?”

   The stray brushed against her legs.

   “Show me where you live?”

   The stray cried for another treat.

   “Who owns you?”

   The stray could not follow the questioning and took to grooming itself. Then it started snowing again.

   Jeanette checked the time on her cell. She was seven minutes late. The coffee house was only two blocks more. They wouldn’t write her up unless she was fifteen minutes late. Although she couldn’t be sure of that anymore because of the lectures Borie had already given her about punctuality.

   Jeanette carefully picked the stray up, loosely, to give her the chance to jump away if she wished. She nibbled Jeanette’s fingers, then licked them. Jeanette started knocking on doors. Borie would be pissed with her.

   “Come on, no cats here. Come on.” An older man closed the door on them.

   “It’s the lady in the yellow house.”

   Jeanette looked around to hear a bearded hipster calling to her from his front porch. He was outside to have a smoke. He waved at them and pointed down the street.

   “There’s a lady in the yellow house. The yellow house.” He came down from his porch and crossed the street to meet them and speak more softly. “There’s a crazy cat lady near the end. You’ll know when you get there.” He petted the stray. “They all go to her. She puts out dishes of milk for them. Her porch is covered in junk. You’ll see. If there’s a stray, it‘s hers. She’s alright, but she’s not alright, you know.”

   “Thanks.”

   Near the end of the street they found the house. The front door was open. The snow on the porch had melted in a semi circle at the entrance. Did the lady leave the door open all the time?

    The stray dropped down but stayed weaving around in circles and headbutting her ankles.

   “Hello?” She knocked on the open door. “Hello?”

   The golf channel was playing on the television. A pajamaed woman was coming to the door. She was putting her hands on the furniture and the door for support as she made her progress.

   “Hello. Is that one of mine? Oh, thank you. It’s so cold. Yes, it so cold out there. Do you want to come in?” Jeanette caught on that she was addressing the cat mostly. “Oh, she likes you. Do you like her? Would you like to take her home?”

   Jeanette saw, as her eyes adjusted to the lesser light inside the house, that there were many cats on the furniture and carpet. It was like seeing a hidden object puzzle and you were challenged to spot the cats in this picture.

   Then Jeanette saw the notices on the front door. Final Warning. Notice of Eviction. Snow Removal Act. And an Inspection Report which cited something about the requirement for a kennel license.

   “What’s her name?”

   The lady looked apologetic. “I stopped naming them, I can’t remember. If I call one of them, I just say, ‘Hey, Beautiful.’ She likes you.”

   Jeanette looked down and picked up the stray. “Dusty. Her name is Dusty.”

   Dusty purred and nibbled and pressed its jaw along Jeanette’s fingers.

   “That’s right. I remember now. Dusty.”

   Jeanette juggled out her cell, still holding Dusty. She texted that she was sick and wouldn’t be at work. Borie would be horrible. He had demanded that anyone who was sick had to call in and speak to him directly and could not get away with sending a text.

   A small car came up the drive, slowed by the unshovelled snow. A woman got out. “Hello, I’m Lucia’s support worker. Lucia, have you eaten, yet?”

   “I don’t think so.”

   “Okay, let me get you something before I start cleaning. I’m Abeena. Are you a relative?”

    “No, I… she gave me a cat. Is she going to lose her home?”

   “No, she has a home to go to, but they won’t place anyone until they’re absolutely sure they’re going to be homeless. The services always wait too long. This is our last week.”

   Jeanette took Dusty back to her apartment. She went in the back entrance to avoid passing the Superintendent’s office. Inside her apartment she put Dusty in her bedroom and closed the door as Isis and Scout sniffed in the hallway waiting to meet the new one. She put down some kibble and water for her and then checked her cell phone.

   She deleted Borie’s messages without hearing them. The texts were harder to ignore. Call me. Call me. CALL ME NOW! I do not accept texting for sick days YOU MUST CALL ME TO REPORT!!!

   Then she called her best friend, April, who argued she had no more room for any more cats, but agreed to take one of old woman’s stray cats.

   Maize, Jackie, and Shelby were good for one each. Sharon agreed, but expected a coffee date. Timothy was up for anything and took two. Her parents agreed to take two, and her father was good about getting shots for theirs and hers. Jeanette decided she had room for one more, bringing her apartment total to; Isis, Scout, Dusty, and Snowfall.

   The hipster agreed to take one. “Give me the one that’s big and old and we’ll get along fine.”

   Borie was terrible when she returned to work. She broke down crying and Borie went to tears as well. And after all was forgiven, he agreed to take the youngest. He just had to figure out how he was going to tell his wife. Jeanette set him up with kibble and kitty litter and cat toys, and waited till her next shift before she explained how Borie’s cat would also have to visit the vet, too, for an inspection and shots and that would cost a little. It might have been a deal breaker, but she had broken down Borie by then.

   Finally, Jeanette said good bye to Lucia. Abeena was taking the old woman to her car to help her to her new home.

   “Was that my daughter?” Lucia asked.

   “That’s was your friend, Lucia. That’s your friend.”