J and I had an unexpected visitor the other night. A grey male tabby, sowing his wild oats in the neighborhood. If he was hoping to nail Eartha, she was spayed long ago, and they immediately took a dislike to one another, chasing her upstairs, as if in some attempt to claim new territory.

Although not having any orange in his coat, Jason quickly deduced by his face and the stripes on his tail that he was one of Morty’s bastard sons. Morty was an orange tabby we had for a while two years ago, until he took off, never to be seen again.



For lack of a better name, I spontaneously named him Grey Boy. J later suggested the name, Grady. If he was a stray. in good shape, with no identification, but starving. I slowly tempted him inside with food, where just inside the back door, he ate a bowl of paté, another of cat treats, then wandered towards the kitchen, where he finished off Eartha’s Whiskas kibbles, all in about half an hour.

Grady hung around for a while, exploring the ground floor and basement, but didn’t venture upstairs where Eartha was cowering. He was friendly, though understandably unsettled, darting in and out of the house, and allowing me to give him a neck scratch every so often. He then went back outside, climbed our chain-link gate, and took off for parts unknown. We haven’t seen him since.




© 2019
Photos © Jason Sorrenti

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04/23/2019

Author's Note: As I’ve recently been getting away from poetry, an anecdotal piece, based on an experience a few days ago.

Posted on 04/23/2019
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti