Memoirs of a Feral Cat

4 paws kicked up, one at a time. My tailed swished from side to side. The sun disappeared, leaving behind a darkened sky that pushed down the scraps of light. His eyes glowed like a couple of stars, penetrating my every nerve. He stood, ignoring the blustering wind. It blew around him, over him, through him, his mane waved, beckoning to me. He edged closer, leaving an intoxicating trail along the way and sang out to me: “This will be the night. Good things will occur. Under the moonlight, you and I will purr.” The wind’s howling accompanied his song, urging him towards me. I joined in the singing, meowing at the top of my lungs. The rest of the world was a mere discord as we harmonized to the moon. At sunrise, he ran off. I was too tired to care and spent most of the day napping, alternating sleeping spots between shade and sun. The two-leggers, like yesterday, buzzed in and out. I took longer than usual cleaning and smoothing down my fur, my paws tingling with anticipation of the tom’s return. The furry beast came back serenading and again, I joined in, synchronizing to his beat. Our trysts continued for the next few nights. Then he didn’t show up. He disappeared from my life as quickly as he had entered but not without leaving me a gift, a bellyful. It didn’t bother me that much that he took off, at least not in the beginning. I loved what he had left behind, but that too disappeared. My plan was to find a safe home. At first, I didn’t want to stray too far from the park in case Big Tom (my name for him) returned. Silly me, always hoping. I roamed, just beyond the edges. The bushes, trees, and soft green grass were replaced by patches of tall, brown blades, flailing in the wind, and scattered dry, sticky patches. The hackles on my neck rose.