Little Cat’s Luck


Little cat,

searching.

Little calico cat

searching for a place,

a special place

to be her very own.

What she would do with a special place

once she found it,

she wasn’t sure.

Perhaps she would just curl up for a good nap.

But if she didn’t know

what her special place was for,

she knew exactly

what it would be like.

Hidden away,

snug,

dark,

quiet . . .

very, very quiet.

The little cat,

whose name was Patches,

by the way,

had checked

every possible spot

in her

entire

house,

looking for her special place.

Corners,

closets,

cupboards.

Even the dusty space

behind the refrigerator

and the floor beneath the kitchen table

next to the chipped blue bowl

that held her kibble . . .

and occasionally a touch of tuna.

Nothing

was quite right.

Not the pillow

where she slept

next to her girl’s sweet breathing.

Too open.

Not the basement

where her man pounded nails

and whirled saws.

Too noisy.

Not the studio

where her woman

slathered paint.

Too smelly!

And so,

on the day our story begins,

Patches sat just inside the window

at the front of her house,

gazing out

at the wide wide world

and longing.

She licked a paw

and ran it over her ginger ear.

She washed her black ear next.

But just as she was starting on

her pretty white face,

something caught her eye.

Something golden.

Something

f

a

l

l

i

n

g.