So the first thing you've got to understand is that I wasn't really a cat person.
That's a little unfair. I never
hated
cats but I never really grew up around them. Life in my little Midwest town was a lot of things- tedious probably being the most important description that I could use, which would probably get me a lot of sympathetic nods from anyone else who grew up in my corner of America- and it involved a number of beloved family dogs, a lot of distant cows and one pet rat that died under particularly tragic circumstances (don't ask) but no cats in a meaningful sense.
So when the cat- grey furred, battered-looking, with a torn-up ear- jumped through my window into my tiny little studio apartment and meowed at me I didn't honestly have the faintest idea what to do.
I'd been experiencing a lot of that lately. I'd finished college, obtained my reasonable grades and my unreasonable amount of student debt and decided to try my luck in the big city. I'd scraped together a little in the way of savings, gotten a tiny apartment in a not-great part of town, and- after nearly burning through my remaining funds- scored a menial job involving data admin.
That had been six months ago, during which I'd learned a lot; that it was possible to survive on toast, rice and beans; that cut-price bookstores and long walks through the city were a great source of cheap entertainment; that you could, in fact, put up with a lot of abuse from your boss if the alternative was homelessness; and that when you reported screams during the night the police wouldn't often respond until far, far too late. The other important thing I'd learned was that you needed friends to make friends. I'd always considered myself to be comfortable being alone, but those six months were teaching me the difference between chosen isolation and the sort of isolation that wouldn't just stop when you got bored with it and needed to talk to someone.
In short I was lonely which was probably why, when the cat showed up, I did what I did.
Namely- after a few moments of stunned silence (Was this, I wondered, something that happens in cities like this, and people just don't talk about it?) I stood up and awkwardly tried to talk to it.
"Hello?" I muttered. "Um. Good kitty?"
The cat stared at me with the serene expression of an animal that had no interest in responding to such nonsense. Sighing, I reached out tentatively, my knuckles extended. Fraught seconds passed as it sniffed at me before it made a meowing noise and leant forward and rubbed against the outstretched hand.
"Okay," I murmured, tentatively reaching out to stroke it. It leaned further into the strokes and I nearly jumped when it's loud purr filled the room. I crouched and petted it for a little while as both of us relaxed. "Are you a stray?"
There was no answer from the cat of course- nothing beyond a slightly more aggressive purr as it arched its back- as I noticed a dark grey collar around its neck. Instead of a bell or identity tag there was a small little pendant attached to it, with the image of a woman with what looked to be a lion's head. Probably not a stray then. "Are you hungry?"
It gave off a sharp, sudden meow. I got up and moved over to the kitchen area before sorting through the cupboards. I heard a sound behind me and turned to see the cat sitting atop the bench, watching me intently as I sorted through cans of beans, Tupperware containers of rice, old potatoes and-
"Ah." I pulled out a can of tuna I'd bought at discount some time ago. I checked the expiry date; still good. "I guess you can have this." Another meow, this one quite a bit more insistent, as I found a small dish to serve. The cat ate the offering as I attended to my own needs, cracking an egg over some bubbling pot noodles to make an impromptu dinner. I sat on my battered couch and ate my noodles. After a while the cat came up and demanded more affection.
I gave it. Like I said earlier I wasn't a cat person. But I was lonely- petting that cat was probably the most physical contact I'd had since arriving in the city. I supposed then and there I could understand the stories about little old ladies and their cats.
While petting the cat I looked up the pendant on the internet. It turned out to be the image of the goddess Bast, an old Egyptian goddess of...well, cats. I chuckled as I rubbed its head. "Are you a goddess? If you are, you have to tell me. It's the law."
Bast- I decided that this was her name- didn't bother to respond. Eventually she left, possibly answering some ancient cat instinct, possibly out of boredom. I was surprised at how disappointed I was to see she leave; disappointed enough that I went out and splurged on a little more tuna, just in case. Sure enough she came back a few days later and I fed and petted her again. Then a few days after that. Soon enough Bast was something of a semi-regular at my place; pawing and meowing at the window from time to time. It says a lot about how I was back then that those arrivals pretty much became the highlight of my week. I would make a point of checking the window first thing after getting out of bed in the morning or when I had come home from work.
There was a knock at the door and I opened it to find Efe there. She was the youngest of a pair of Nigerian sisters that lived next door to me. I sometimes received their mail while they were out and they did the same for me; this is, I had learned, what passed for close neighbours in the city.
I got on well with Efe. She was pretty and smiled at me sometimes when we met in the hall. Once I'd received a knock on the door to find her with a crock-pot of something beefy and so spicy it made my eyes water from five feet away; they'd overcooked, she said, and did I want any? I did and the stew- mixed with a
lot
of rice- lasted me for a delicious week. Ever since then I'd made a point to say hello to her in the hall.
Efe was smiling at me now. She was gorgeous- both sisters were gorgeous, with dark skin and pleasantly buxom figures. Efe was a little shorter, a little skinnier, a little less generous in the chest and the hip but made up for it by being friendly. I didn't have designs on her, mind. She was a lot younger than me- I was pretty sure she was just out of high school while I had finished college a year ago. Moreover, I got the impression that her sister Kayin- much closer to my own age- didn't particularly approve of me. She certainly gave me the odd sour look when we bumped into each other in the hallway.
Besides, she was hot- they both were incredibly hot- and I was a skinny white boy who could barely make rent. I figured my chances were slim to none.
Still, it was always great to see her. She was dressed in a green hoody and jeans, her braids tucked back into a tail. "Efe. What's up?"
"You got a package?" She held up a delivery card.
"Right!" Wait a moment." I stepped away from the door and grabbed the small cardboard pack from my chipped and unbalanced coffee table and turned back to her.
To my surprise she'd stepped into the studio, her smile growing wider. "You have a cat?"
