Catnapped

When I see a flash from the side of the road, I assume it’s a trick of the light. Luckily, the winding back roads are familiar to me; I’m struggling to keep my eyes open after 10 hours of running plates of greasy food, and it’s a pitch-black night.

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As I skate around a particularly sharp turn, a pair of eyes blink at me from the curb. Possum, I think, before I see two perked ears and a curved tail. A cat!

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My heart lurches. The skies are clear tonight, but this road is notorious for its blind curves and jackasses racing home after a few too many beers.

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I slam on the brakes, pulling over against the tree-lined shoulder. The cat meows as I swing open the car door, eyeing me apprehensively as I creep toward it.

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Most strays would have bolted for cover using the trees, but this one holds its ground as I kneel beside it, extending my hand for a sniff.

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It meows again, and seems to take a second to make up its mind before rubbing its face against my palm. In the glow of the headlights, I make note of mangy fur and speckles of black fleas that turn my stomach. I can tell she is a girl, and barely older than a kitten; her wiry frame and lanky limbs look mismatched against her large yellow eyes.

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“What are you doing out here?” I ask.

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She meows and, as if sensing my temptation to get back in my car, flings herself belly-up at my feet. I scratch behind her ears as she begins to purr. 

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My resolve melts. Gingerly, I place my hands around her, feeling her ribs poking against her skin. Her limbs dangle uselessly in the air as I rush back to the car, flinging her into the back seat and speeding away.

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She meows the entire drive home, and I wonder how I will ever explain this to my mom.

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