55. Finding Noel

The moving men stuffed the last box into the van. I took a sad walk around the house that I thought I would live in forever. But life changes, for good or bad, whether we want it or not. The rooms were empty and scuffed looking. I'd come back tomorrow to give it a good vacuuming for its new owners. They were probably excited about moving in and getting settled before Christmas. They wouldn't even notice what I'd done. Oh, well, I would know I had done my best. I looked out the kitchen door at the tiny, snow covered back yard.

I leaned my forehead on the cool glass and sighed. I glimpsed movement below me on the porch. A scrawny, gray and white kitten scratched to get in. I tapped on the glass. His enormous green eyes looked up at me. I could hardly hear the 'mowr' from his pink, opened mouth showing tiny milk teeth.

I tugged the door open. The fur ball hesitated and then with a burst of energy flung himself in as if escaping from a ferocious dog. He wrapped himself around my legs, meowing softly. Now what? I had to go. I needed to be at the new condo to let the movers in. The little guy looked clean. I petted him and he purred like a lion. I could feel his ribs. Was he hungry? I had no food to give him. He had no collar. No ID. But it was below freezing. I couldn't kick him back out in the cold maybe to starve.

He snuggled into my chest when I picked him up. I made a snap decision, hoping it wouldn't be another major mistake. I'd take him with me and when I came back to vacuum, I'd stick up posters in the neighborhood about finding a kitten.

I put him in the tote bag that held my purse and cell phone, grabbed my keys and shut the door on what I had thought would be the perfect home for Jason and me. When I signed the papers I was so much in love I didn't care that it was just in my name. Jason was between jobs and he said he'd just bring down my credit rating. He was so cute, so loving, so attentive. He even brought home a bottle of champagne for the first night in our new home. I think that was the last thing he ever bought.

At first I didn't mind. It's hard for an actor to find jobs that fit his abilities. And my job as an under writer at an insurance company paid all our bills. But I noticed that he never went out for casting calls. His dirty dishes were all around the house. He didn't even carry them to the kitchen sink. I tried to be understanding and considerate. But when I did his laundry--he didn't know how to use a washing machine--I found lipstick on his T-shirts. I was so naïve, I thought it was blood or ketchup. Until I smelled stale perfume that I didn't use.

I took the next afternoon off work, came home and gave him $50 to have a 'nice lunch' with his friends. I shoved his clothes, CDs, Men magazines, and other junk in his duffle bag and put it outside the front door. I put a note on top saying I never wanted to see or hear from him again.

Then I put the dead bolts on the doors and cleaned every nook and cranny to get rid of any sign or smell of him. When it got dark I didn't turn on the lights and took a long, herb scented bath by candle light. I closed my eyes in the soothing water and listened to an audio book, “How to live without a man.” I planned to give it a good review on amazon.com.

Jason came home from 'lunch' around 10 p.m. He banged on the door and yelled until he found my note. I guess he was still sober enough to read. For he picked up his stuff and went back to the bus stop. The next day I put my little 'love nest' on the market and looked for a condo for one, near my job.

I stepped on the gas to get to the one I found before the movers got there. As I drove past all the houses decorated with holiday lights and wreaths, I wished the families inside a Merry Christmas even though I wouldn't be having one.

In the condo, I put the kitten in the bathroom until the movers left. I filled a small box with shredded paper and hoped he'd understand it was his 'litter box.' This little guy was going to be a lot of work. Maybe I had made another error in judgment.

When the movers were gone, I let Noel out. I apologized for giving him a cliché name for a Christmas cat, but I had to call him something. And I pointed out to him, he probably had a real name with a real family who'd come and get him as soon as I put up the 'found kitten' notices. So it didn't matter what I called him. He just looked at me and rubbed against my legs.

There were boxes every where. Noel walked around sniffing everything he could reach. I got two bowls out of the 'kitchen' box and filled one with water. Luckily I had already stocked the kitchen with a few groceries and was able to put some canned tuna in the bowl. Noel started meowing loudly as soon as he smelled the fish. He almost fell in the dish when I put it down. But every few seconds, he stopped gobbling to look up at me and purr. At last there was a male in the house who showed gratitude if nothing else.

I made up my queen sized bed. Thank heavens, I hadn't been able to afford a huge king size when Jason and I moved in together. The acres of emptiness would be even more lonely. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and climbed into bed after a glass of milk and a tuna sandwich of my own.

My mind whirled reliving the past few weeks. Christmas was in a few more days and I was alone...

I heard the pad of tiny feet, felt the bed jar as Noel jumped up. He meowed softly, turning it into a purr as he nestled his warm, soft body next to my back. Now I had something else to worry about. What if someone tried to claim Noel?

                                                                     The End