Kitty came home


Stretched out on the couch, I was reading, zoned out on a lazy Sunday night. Then, I heard the heart-wrenching cry of a cat.

My stomach twisted. It couldn’t be. My mind must be playing tricks on me.

It wouldn’t have been the first time I had thought I heard her cry: my lovely, loyal house cat who had been so cruelly let outdoors nine days earlier, only to get lost in the abyss of other-backyards, and God-knows-where-else. For days I had been shaking her food bowl, calling her name, making come-hither kitty sounds, to no avail. I put out flyers, posted an online ad, called the SPCA. I thought she was gone.

She cried again. A high-pitched whine. I jumped from my seat and ran to the back door.

It was her. It was my grey cat named Ginger, in all her tabby, striped glory. I opened the door and nearly fell on top of her, laughing and crying all at once.

After nine days of being outside – she had never spent more than half an hour outside a house before this point – she had not a scratch, not a limp. She may have lost a pound or two, but my cat really did come back.


Published by

April C

Writer, editor and mom in Saint John, NB.

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