A Cat on the Window Sill

The city air made me want to cough. All of the smoke and people crowding around made it feel like I couldn’t breathe. Once again, I checked my phone, scrolling through my text messages to find the one from Laura:

127 Maple Street! Can’t wait to see you!

Sighing, I put my phone back in my pocket and scanned the bustling street. Cars were running every which way, some honking right in my ear. At the far end of the road I was on, I spotted a street sign that looked to be on its last legs: Maple Street. One nail holding it to a metal pole had come undone, resulting in it hanging haphazardly to the side.

I wove through the people on the sidewalks, turning right when I got to the sign. At last, it appeared that I was out of the chaos. The road that I turned down – it was more of an alley – was quieter, full of run down storefronts and broken windows.

“Great,” I murmured to myself. I was not looking forward to the week ahead.

The whole reason that I was there in the first place was because I was visiting my brother, Michael, who lived nearby. But when my old friend Laura had heard, she insisted that I stayed in her hotel.

She had gotten the idea all the way back in college, where Laura had taken business classes. She had started planning the hotel in freshman year. “One that people will never want to leave,” she had said. I thought it was silly, but I kept it to myself. Now I wished that I hadn’t; maybe I could have avoided this whole mess.

Mustering all my courage, I reminded myself that I would only be staying for a week. How bad could that be? I dragged my suitcase across the street and found the hotel.

The building itself didn’t look like it belonged on the street. With its freshly painted blue bricks and shiny new windows, it reminded me of nicer hotels that I had stayed in. But the whole alley still smelled like cigarette smoke and gasoline.

I pushed open the door, my heart falling. The outside of the building was not a good representation of the inside. It looked clean enough, but there was hardly any furniture and the walls were bare and dusty. The only picture was of a sad looking sailboat, so small that I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been looking for a clock. The front desk was empty.

“Abby!” Spinning around, I saw another door burst open. Laura ran over and gave me a quick hug. “How was your trip? Short I hope. Are you tired?”

Momentarily confused by my old friend’s energy, I didn’t say anything.

“Well you must be then! There’s coffee over there if you want it and I know all the best places in the city. There’s this little breakfast shop just down the way-”

I cut her off. “Hi Laura, it’s good to see you. Would you mind if I checked in first?”

“Of course!” Not at all deterred, Laura rushed over to the desk and handed me a key. “Third floor, second door on the left. Do you need help with your bags?”

“No thanks,” I said, and hurried out of the room. I was tired from my plane ride, and Laura’s never-ending energy was more than I wanted to deal with at the moment. 

With a sigh of relief, I opened the door to my room. It was small, hardly larger than a closet. On one wall to my right, there was a door that I figured must have led to the bathroom. In front of me, sat a small twin bed and a desk.

I put my suitcase down on the desk and suddenly felt rather cold. The window was open.

Crossing the room with a single stride, I reached for the hook that held it open, but the stupid thing didn’t budge. “Seriously?”

I groaned and kept trying, but it refused to close. “Ugh!”

“Mrrow?” Glancing down, I saw a cat climbing up the fire escape. It was an orange tabby cat, but its fur was darkened with mud. Probably from living on the streets.

“Get out of here!” I said, “Shoo!”

“Mrrow!” the cat insisted, before leaping up onto the window sill.

“No! Go home!”

But the cat just laid down and closed his eyes. I thought I even heard him purring.

“Stupid cat,” I said. I would have pushed him off, but I didn’t want to risk him biting me. Who knew what kind of diseases he had? With another groan of frustration, I headed back downstairs.

Laura was there to meet me, “Ooh! Are you ready to explore the city?”

“No, there’s just this cat in my room. He’s sitting on the window sill and won’t leave. And I can’t close the window either.” I didn’t mean to be rude, but I was tired and a stray cat in my room was the last thing I needed.

Laura’s enthusiasm never left her. “Oh you’ve met Oliver! Don’t worry about him. He’ll sit there for a while and move on.”

“You aren’t worried about fleas or rabies or something?”

Laura waved it off. “Nah. When’s the last time you heard of anyone getting rabies? Besides, we get him vaccinated and all that every year. He likes to hang around here sometimes.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. A stray cat going in and out of the hotel bringing who knew what with him? I decided that I would come back later to find someone else to help if Oliver decided to stay.

I thanked her, though I don’t know what for, and headed back to my room. Oliver was still there basking in the sun.

“Well I may as well get you cleaned up. I don’t want some muddy cat tromping around here.” I pulled him off the window sill, surprised at his weight. He wasn’t a fat cat, but he didn’t want to move.

“Mrrow!” he complained as I pulled him away from the window. I dropped him in my tub and turned on the water. In designing my plan, I had completely forgotten that cats hated baths.

“Mrrrrrow! MRRROW!”

“Oh quit it!” I told him, “It won’t kill you.” I decided that the bath might do us both good: he would get the mud out of his fur and then leave me alone.

But when I dried him off with a towel and my hairdryer, he became rather interested in my room, weaving around my feet and running all over the place.

“Oliver!” I chased after him just as he leapt back onto the window sill.

Good, now he’s leaving, I thought, giving him a wave goodbye. But without a second thought, he stretched, yawned, and curled up right where he was.

“Well at least you’re clean,” I muttered.

As the days went on, I saw a lot of Oliver. The next morning, he had left the window sill by the time I had woken up to go visit my brother, but when I got back that afternoon, he was there again, sleeping. I found myself tiptoeing around so I didn’t wake him.

This happened each day. I would wake up and he’d be gone. I’d hope that he had finally left me alone for good and I would again try to close the window. It never moved. Then, in the afternoon, I would get back to find him sitting there again. Usually asleep, once even sitting on the desk.

On the fourth day, I actually went out to go buy him some treats, muttering to myself the whole time about how stupid it was. He loved them.

Slowly, I started accepting the fact that I was going to have to live with this strange cat for the rest of my time there.

“Oliver is such a formal name,” I said to him one afternoon. He didn’t look up. “I’m going to call you Ollie.” He purred and paid me no more attention.

On the sixth day, my last day at the hotel, I was so used to seeing the cat that I opened the door saying, “Hi Ollie! How was your day?”

But the familiar lump of bright orange fur wasn’t there. “Ollie?” I asked. Peering out the window, I found the fire escape to be empty. “Huh.” I said, and sat down on my bed. Every afternoon I had hoped before I opened my door that the cat had finally left, but now that he was actually gone. I found myself missing him.

Shaking my head at myself, I walked downstairs.

“Hi Abby,” Laura said with a sigh, not glancing up from a stack of papers on her desk.

It was uncharacteristic of her to be so melancholy. “Is something wrong?” I asked.

She sighed again and put down her pen. “No, not really. Someone complained about Oliver and apparently it isn’t ‘up to code’ to have a cat roaming around the place.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyways, I’ve got to do all this paperwork to send him to a shelter.”

“Is he there now?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, I can’t seem to find him. Oh and that reminds me, we got your window fixed. Oliver was sitting there when I went up. I tried to grab him, but he’s faster than he looks.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, feeling oddly disappointed. 

Laura changed the subject, “How has your stay been so far?”

“Good!” I said, “I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

“Well you’re welcome to pop in any time!”

I told her I would and then went back up to my room, hoping to find Ollie on the window sill again. Sadly, it was still empty. I walked over and checked the hook again, finding that it moved and the window slid shut easily. It was a cool afternoon and I was tempted to leave it shut, but for some reason, I kept it open, glancing again at the fire escape.

That night, I had trouble sleeping. It wasn’t jetlag though. I realized that I didn’t want to go home. I had grown rather fond of Laura’s little hotel. Especially of that cat. What am I going to do with those treats?

In the morning I took a shower and packed up my suitcase, checking the window one last time. It was empty.

I headed downstairs and said my goodbyes to Laura. 

“You haven’t found Oliver yet?” I asked.

She frowned. “There’s someone looking for him now, but I don’t think we’ll find him unless he wants to be found,” she said. “Part of me hopes that he gets away.”

“Oh, well, I’ll miss him,” I said. After giving her a last hug, I headed out the door.

I gave the hotel a final glance before walking back down the alley, feeling unsettled. As I was nearing the half fallen street sign, I heard a familiar sound.

“Mrrow?” I spun around, spotting Ollie standing there behind me. Had he been following me?

“Oh there you are.” I looked up, spotting a man jogging towards me. “That cat is going to be the death of me. I’ve been looking for him all morning!”

I noticed the label on his shirt: Blakely Animal Shelter. Without even thinking about it, I asked, “Why were you looking for him?”

“Oh he’s been getting into trouble around that hotel down the street,” the man said, crouching down to reach for Ollie.

“I think you have the wrong cat,” I said quickly. “This guy has been living with me for years.” The lie left my mouth before I got a chance to realize what I was saying.

“Really?” he asked. “The owner said it was an orange tabby. Like this one.”

I shrugged, “There are plenty of orange tabbies around. But only one of them follows me!” I tried faking a smile, but the man just gave me a confused look.

“Well if you say so.”

I nodded and scooped Ollie up off the ground. “Well, I have to catch a flight. Good luck on your search!”

I hurried away without waiting for his reply. “Now where am I going to find a cat carrier?”