strays

Meowing at volumes previously unsurpassed by domestic felines, the gray stray bared his sharp, carnivorous canines and glowered at me. Hungry, full of intention, he crept toward the screen and clawed his way to a standing height of over two feet. Sensing a territorial battle approaching, I quickly grasped the glass door for protection and slammed it noisily to a close, bringing lowder, almost baby-like cries. Not to be halted in my endeavor to separate myself, I floundered with the lock and brought the long venetians to a quiet close. Silence. If only the glass divide between us could ameliorate the guilt I felt inside. No creature should feel so unwanted.

Undeterred, the cries began once again, screaming at me as if he would will his way inside. What did he want? Why me? GO HOME. I do not want you. The embodiment of torture, just the thought of reaching down for one small carress along his jagged fur brings me running to the rescue of the smallest of pills.

Animal control....are you there? leave a message? not open? one more night, I can do it. Resolved, hopeful for resolution, I leave. Hours later, my return finds the situation unchanged. I will not back down. I go to bed, waking up to the same vicious cries. No, I will not feed you, PLEASE just go home, you find no friends here. I feel so cold, so unloving. The internal struggle rises, I have some milk, just a little will do no harm. No harm? He will NEVER leave if he has the slightest window of hospitality. I look, he looks back. The silent staring ensues. Who will give in, who will conquer. I close the blinds. I will not back down.

Animal control calls. Cats are free to roam. No help, no resolution. Thoughts of picking up the tortured bring hallucinations, no, there must be another way. I step out, glass in hand, overturned and the ground is wet. Darn, a miss. Another one, a small splash on the fur, but he is coming back. More water, and still no reason to flee. He is not afraid. I have lost. A stray forever my new mate.