River

As I ran westward on Rosemary Lane Tuesday afternoon, I saw a bus as big as the Titanic parked beside Bankston School. The last time I saw one of those, I remembered, my son was giving some tourists a tour. When I rounded the corner onto the Grand Boulevard to cross the Tallahatchie Bridge, I was met with a throng of people who forced me off the sidewalk and all the way over to the other side of the road. 

Right in the middle of that crowd was my son, Forrest, who announced to everyone, "That's my dad." That made me feel like a million bucks. After that, I received lots of smiles and 'Hey Dads.' 

I stayed on the west side of the bridge and when I got to the trees, I heard something that brought me to a halt. I heard a cat crying for help. I peered down into the foliage below but failed to make out a feline. The voice, however, was unmistakable, and the words were clear: Help me! Help me, please!

Continuing my run, I followed some truck tracks in an unplanted bean field, ran way out Wade Road, and shuffle north on a gravel road that leads back to Money Road. An hour later, I was back on the bridge and I stopped where I had heard the cat. Now there was no meowing. I cried out, "Kitty," and the meowing started back. "I have to do something," I thought.

I shuffled on home thinking, "We don't need another cat. But I can always take him or her to the Humane Society." At home, Penny was on the couch in her pajamas. "There is a cat on the riverbank that needs rescuing," I announced. "Want to go with me?" I asked. To my shock, she got up immediately and changed clothes.

On the way, I told her the story of how the tourists forced me to the side of the road I never ran on because there is no cat walk there. On my normal side, I very likely would never have heard him. We drove down the turn row and parked. I sprayed down with OFF, and we made our way towards the rive bank. We waded through waist high weeds and then I had to break through some vines covering a mat of tangled branches. This is a wonderful way to get snake bit, I thought. I cried out, "Kitty" and the cat answered with more pleading.

Busting through the vines brought me to a drainage that led straight to the river. I was able then to walk it unhindered. I stopped and called the cat again. He cried in return while I peered into the underbrush. Then I saw him, a little yellow tabby about ten weeks old. He walked straight to me, and I picked him up. Immediately he started purring and head butting me. I walked out with him and Penny said, "He's just a baby. Give him to me."

He can't get enough attention.

When we got home, Penny said, "We can keep him if you want to." What do you mean "if" I thought. I really had no thoughts of keeping him, but I love cats. Inside the house we offered him food, and he ate fiercely. We offered him water, but he declined that. He must have been drinking from the river. And that's what we started calling him, River. 

I slept with him last night in Andrea's room. If he slept, I never knew it. He spent most of the night trying to crawl up inside my mouth: feet, head, everything. I did not sleep well, but I am happy we have a new baby. But CC, on the other hand, she is not speaking to me. Too bad, no one can replace her.