“No rush.” A small meow catches my ear, and I look to my right to see a pair of yellow eyes blinking at me from the top cubby.
I step closer. The black cat meows again, not taking its eyes off of me. Something about the look in them pulls me in. I glance at the small laminated piece of paper hanging by the door to the cage.
Midnight.
Five years old, male, domestic shorthair, black. Bonded pair with Boo Bear.
It’s then that I notice a second cat in with Midnight. That one’s a mix of browns and whites, with a snappy tail and pink nose.
He tracks my every move, but doesn’t get up from his spot curled up on a blanket. Midnight however, brushes up against the slits of the cage. He meows again, like he’s trying to tell me something I’ll never understand.
Hesitantly, I put my hand up the bars. He pauses, whiskers twitching as he sniffs my hand. I wait for him to try to bite me or swipe at me like Macaroni. But instead of doing what the little orange bastard does, this one brushes his body against my fingertips.
His fur is silky. So dark, it absorbs all the light in the room. The next time he walks past, I wiggle my fingers as best as I can, trying to pet him better.
“Do you want me to take him out?”
It’s Penny’s turn to startle me. I rear back from the cage, face hot like I got caught doing something I’m not supposed to. “No, that’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
Midnight meows at me, waiting for me to pet him again.
“No—”
My refusal is cut off as Penny unlatches the door. She swings it open and scoops up the black cat. He’s much smaller than Macaroni, but then again, this one is probably just what a normal-sized cat is supposed to be like.
“Here, try holding him.” She extends the cat toward me, all sharp claws and yellow eyes.
“I really don’t know…” But my protest dies as she places him in my arms.
“Here, hold him like this.” She helps position him and I wait for the scratch of his claws.
But it never comes.
The cat presses into my chest. His purr thrums through his entire body, feeling like a small engine in my arms. He’s completely relaxed, totally content to just be held. Once I’mconfident he’s not going to turn around and scratch me, I begin to relax too.
Penny watches me with a knowing look.
“What?”
“I think Midnight’s chosen you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means, I think you’re adopting a cat.”
I do not adoptthe cat.
But as we leave, I find myself looking back toward the room where he and his bonded pair live, and think about those yellow eyes of his.
I do not need to adopt a cat.
Penny says something to her manager that I can’t catch before we walk out. When we get to the car, I ask, “What did you whisper to her just now?”
She grins. “I told her we’d be back tomorrow for a formal visit between you and Midnight. Well, and Boo Bear too, since they come as a duo. You’ll have to adopt both.”
“I’m not adopting a cat!”
