crowdog66 ◾ ◾ Ooh, fuck (and a rescued cat)

I don't know what's wrong, but I feel like someone poured sludge into my internal filter system. My body aches, my head aches, I feel doped-up and exhausted, and depression continues to lie over my mind like black frost. The possibility intrudes: could it be the Pill? That's when things started to go downhill internally...

Rescued a cat today on my way out to meet my mother for a late Mothers Day dinner. I decided to take the side stairs out of the building instead of the front stairs, and as I came rushing down the steep/narrow stairwell I saw something black at the bottom, under the final step, almost right up against the outside door. At first, I thought someone had dropped a fanny pack or a black hat. It turned out to be a little black cat with a blue collar and a bell, huddled as far under cover as it could get and looking distinctly nervous.

What could I do? Not leave it where it was, to possibly get out if someone else opened the outside door. Instead I scooped it up and took it back up three stories to our apartment. Cue a surprised and somewhat angry outburst from George, who didn't relish the idea of a strange cat confined with him in the studio, distracting him from his work... nevertheless, I thrust the cat upon him and sprinted back out, already late to meet my mother at the bus stop and escort her to the restaurant.

Once at the restaurant, I called George. Apologies flowed in both directions. We agreed that yes, picking up the cat had been the right thing to do, and knocking on various doors in the building after supper might lead to finding its owner. The cat, meanwhile, was not bothering George at all: it had crawled behind the desk and hidden under a board propped up against the wall, leaving only a tiny bit of black fur showing (if you knew where to look).

Dinner with my mother followed, including discussion about the cat. She came back to the building with me, and I paused at the front door to hold it open for an older fellow who was hauling in parts of a bookshelf.

Me: "Moving in?"

Older Fellow: "Nope, just helping my son and daugher-in-law bring in some extra shelves."

*pause*

Me: "You wouldn't happen to be missing a cat?"

Older Fellow, with a grin: "Black cat, blue collar?"

Turned out the cable guy had accidentally let the cat escape earlier that day. By the time I'd helped my mother up the stairs, the cat's owner -- a woman named Barb -- was already almost at our apartment door, looking very anxious, and VERY grateful to have her baby back! The cat, a female named Walter, was equally happy to see her mommy, and was easily coaxed out of her hiding place to be swept up into her owner's arms and hugged.

So, a happy ending all around: I found the cat on the way out, and the owner on the way back in. I still feel like shit on a stick, though. :-P