Gratitude

I step out of my cozy shed and enjoy a big stretch. The wonderfully scrumptious fish dinner is still keeping my belly happy, and today, I'm going to venture out to the outskirts of my territory, where I last spotted a precious prey. I haven't been around there in a while, so I must be cautious.

Strutting through my usual route, I start to recall on how I found myself in my lovely situation.

It was not too long ago when my mother left my siblings and me, “Go explore this wonderful world now, my dear children,” she said. And so, one by one, my siblings and I started to venture out a little further each day, carving out new territories; until one day, I suddenly realized that I was quite far away from where I was born, and there was no point in returning.

The days went by quickly. I hunt when I please and I nap in the sun, constantly. I do pride myself on being a decent hunter, just like how Mother taught us. But one day, there was a constant pouring of rain, as if the sky was dumping buckets of water down at us, and I found myself cold and miserable and terribly hungry. I burrowed deep under some thick bushes to try to find a dry spot and came out the other side, into a nicely kept backyard. That was when I first spotted her.

She saw me right away, then bent down and made the softest sounds I've ever heard a human make, gesturing her hand toward me. My first instinct was to dash, but I was drenched and helpless, so I sat and watched her cautiously. Mother had told us to be careful with humans; they are highly unpredictable, although some of them do enjoy engaging with us; the trick is to be able to tell them apart.

After a while, she left and went inside the house, and I resumed my search for a dry spot to sleep. When I finally found shelter behind a garden Gnome who was holding a big mushroom over his head, I smelled something that instantly got my attention.

The lady had gotten back out, and she set down a bowl under the awning. It smelled like food; like the most delicious food ever. Her eyes found me at my new spot, and she started making soft noises again. I really wanted to run over and devour whatever was in that bowl, but my mother's lessons kept me at bay; I watched the bowl, and I watched her. Perhaps my helpless desperation had registered with her as she walked away and left the bowl. Still, I waited a few moments before I gently walked over to the bowl; it was the best meal I'd ever had.

I slept next to the Gnome, and when I woke up, I could smell that the bowl was filled again. Cautiously, I went over and ate some more of the yummiest food I've ever had. Then I saw her looking at me through her patio door, I instantly turned to start to run, but the scent of the food was so intoxicating that my feet were glued to the ground. Since she made no movements, I decided to keep eating. I'll just be on my way after I finish this, I said to myself.

The sun was out again and I resumed my daily routine, but very quickly I found that the food I caught for myself was no longer satisfying. I ventured over to that backyard, feeling careful and hopeful. And there it was, the bowl filled with the most wonderful meat. This time I simply did a quick scan around me before I dived into the bowl. Satisfaction achieved.

Afterward, the lady would leave me food in the bowl every day. Slowly, I began to think that she was one of the humans who liked us, and I started to let her come closer to me each day. One day, she was able to reach out her hand and set it on my head, she glided down her hand toward my back, and repeated this motion; It felt so soothing, like I was being groomed by Mother. I do believe I started purring rather quickly that day, which was a little embarrassing.

And then, one day, she presented me with a shed. It is a shed that no cat will sneer at, just the right size for me to sprawl out or curl up inside, complete with warm blankets and cushions, and an entry that's designed for just me to get through. It was the best sleep I've ever had, and I greeted her the next morning with purrs and rubs. I think that pleased her, too, for she was making a lot of gentle sounds and petting me continuously. I think she might have named me that day.

I jump on a fence and head towards the streets. At the end of this corner, I'll attempt to cross the street and enter an area that I'm not super familiar with. Crossing the street could be very dangerous business, but I'm on a mission today, and I will not settle for any mouse or squirrel. Surely, my lady deserves a gift with feathers.

I jump down off the fence and run under a parked car. From under here, I peeked out to the street. Giant machines zoomed by, making lots of noises. Cars, I'm glad Mother had taught us how to look out for the signs of them coming or going. It's not too hard once you get the hang of listening to them.

There are a few minutes when I couldn't hear anything, so I look to both sides and quickly dash to the other side of the street, under another parked car. From here, I could see my destination, an open space of grass, trees, and bushes.

I walk along the bushes, keeping my ears open. And there it is, hopping around and pecking at the grounds, the feathers jolting tantalizingly. I instantly lower my body, and I slowly stalk from under the bushes. It hasn't noticed me yet, and I get closer. I observe its pattern of hopping and pecking. When I believe it has stopped for a moment before pecking again, I raise my behind and hind legs, wiggle it a little for good measure, and pounce directly onto the bird. Success. How wonderful.

Holding the poor lifeless bird in my mouth, I start to head back. Through the parked car, and the same careful method to cross the street, onto the long fences, down to the bushes, and back into my backyard.

I drop the bird in front of her patio door. I do believe it makes a fine present.

I really hope she loves it.