It Came Back

“That cat’s back,” said Ann. 

“What cat?” said Jon.

“That black cat that showed up, maybe last year,” said Ann. “I want it gone.”

She was looking out the front door window. Their front porch was carpeted, and the two steps up were wet. But the deck itself was dry, and the cat was laying in the middle. It was asleep.

“Get it off the porch,” said Ann. He went to their room to get his slippers and made a comment about it being a harmless cat. Ann wouldn’t have listened even if she’d heard. 

“What I was trying to say was that there is candy all over the porch,’ said Anne. She sat down at their dining room table. Jon got back, and before he could step outside, Ann said: “The candy bowl needs to be brought in too.” He said he would get it and went out. She watched him out the window of their dining room. Jon poked the cat with the rubber part of his slipper and said, “get up bud,” but it wouldn’t move. He could see that the cat’s belly would puff up with air, so he knew it was alive, at the least. He went back inside and said: “It won't move, and I can't bend over to pick it up without hurting my knee. Really, Ann, it’s no bother.” 

“You didn’t even try,” she said. She went into the kitchen. 

“I did try. I’m not going to hurt it though,” he said. “It is just a cat. It isn’t hurting anything by laying there. I would even give it some tuna if you’d let me.” She got an old wooden broom hidden in their pantry and went to the door. “Honey,” Jon said. She didn’t care. She opened the door and stood on the threshold and held the bristle end above the cat and dropped it on its body. Jon watched. She yelled at it to leave and go somewhere else. It didn’t move. 

“It’s dead, isn’t it?” she said, “some idiot kid put a dead cat on our porch as a prank. Dumb kids. I’m not ever putting candy out again if this is how it’s going to be.”

“I saw it breathing. Nobody would put a dead cat on our porch like that,” said Jon.

She went onto the carpet and swiped at the cat like it was dirt on the porch.

“If it's alive, why won't it wake up?” Ann said. “Jon?”

“Ann. It’s cold out, and you are going to get out of breath acting like this,” Jon said. He grabbed the middle of the broom, but she wouldn’t let go. 

“It has to leave,” she said. She hit the cat again with the broom. And again. And again.

“Anna Irene Alby,” Jon said. “Stop this. That cat has done nothing to you,” Jon said. He took the broom from her with his old man strength. 

“Why is it here, and why won’t it wake up?” Anne said.

“It’s sleeping on the carpet. How would you feel if someone hit you while you were asleep? Get in,” Jon said.

“I’m a person,” Anne said. Her breath was visible. Weak. She got the candy bowl and went inside, and sat at the dining room table.

“You need to rest after having that fit like you did,” said Jon. He ate a piece of candy out of the bowl on the table.

“You’re too old to become a diabetic,” Ann said. Jon laughed and ate another piece. “Don’t laugh at me,” she said. Jon just sat next to her at the table. 

“Denny called me before you woke up,” Jon said, “He told me his grandkids were dressed up like pirates. And that they had too much candy and crashed by eight o’clock.”

“Denny needs to stop calling just to brag,” said Ann. 

“He’s not bragging honey, he’s just a proud grandpa. He loves those kids like nothing else,” said Jon, “we didn’t have any kids come by last night. They passed the house. And there’s a lot of candy in this bowl left.”

“It’s for next year,” said Ann.

“I’ll make you tea,” Jon said, “maybe that will calm you down.”

She had her tea but they didn’t talk much more that day, other than when Jon had asked what puzzle he should start and Ann told him puzzles were getting to be predictable and boring and that he probably had better things to do. Before they went to bed that night Ann checked the front porch and the cat was still asleep. She said: “Jon, it hasn't left.” He told her it was time for bed and that it would probably be gone by morning. It wasn’t.

The next morning she watched it out the window, willing it to leave. Months passed and Ann would watch the cat and the cat would sleep on their blue carpet porch through snow and wind and rain. A year passed. Jon told Ann he was going to hand out the candy to kids this year. She said no because he could get a cold or even worse the flu and die.

At six o’clock he sat in the dining room and watched out the window. Kids were making a pattern, a zig-zag, from one house across the street to the next. But they skipped Jon and Ann’s. He thought about calling his nephew and inviting his brother’s grandkids over, but that would be intrusive. And so, there were no kids that came. He turned off the porch light and went to bed.

At midnight, the black cat woke up. It went to the spot under the porch steps where Jon would hide cans of tuna after Ann would go to bed. Jon forgot that night. The cat jumped into the bowl of candy and scattered mini chocolates and suckers on the porch. The next morning the cat was gone. Candy was everywhere. Jon cleaned up the mess of candy and threw it all away. He wanted to tell Ann that it was her fault that the kids didn’t come to the house and that the cat left and even that they never had kids of their own. All Ann.

Instead, he died. He fell on the ground and yelled for Ann to call an ambulance but by the time they got there he had passed. On Jon’s one-year death anniversary, Ann decided to go see Jon's grave against her better judgment. She made tea and got her old broom and went to Jon’s stone. Leaves covered his marker and she swept them off. And when she did that black cat, the one that came back, came back again, and jumped onto his gravestone and laid down and fell asleep.