Stray Cat at Dawn

At 6:30 I was near my front door putting my shoes on when I heard an ever-so-gentle tap-tap on my front door. My hands stopped their movement of tying shoes. I thought "What in the world?" and was immediately conflicted about opening the door. Was it my downstairs neighbor for some reason? Was it someone bad who would hurt me? The soft tap-tap sounded again.

Gingerly, I opened the front door a crack and there, hanging on the screen, was a small cat. It had reached through the place on the edge of the screen that was loose and was gently pawing the curtain of clear red plastic hearts currently hanging on the door. The curtain of hearts was still gently swinging. The cat froze in place. I froze in place. And then the cat yanked its paw back through the screen, disengaged its claws, dropped to the porch and streaked off.

I stepped out onto the door mat. The cat halted at the top of the lower staircase and turned. It was so cold out, predawn, cold breeze in the darkness. I felt sorry for this cat out in the cold. "Kitty, Kitty, Kitty?" I called, wondering what in the world I would do if it came. It didn't. It delicately walked through the snow and sprayed my little pine tree and then returned to take one more good look at me from the top of the stairs before descending to the sidewalk and disappearing around the curve.

I went back into the house and shut the door. I looked down at Tim the cat, sitting in the center of the living room rug, remembering the time when he was a stray cat, so terribly skinny, and lost out in the cold. "Aren't you a lucky cat," I told him. "Is there a possibility of more breakfast?" he asked with his eyes.

As I drove out of the parking lot of the church later after meditation, two homeless men were standing behind the church in the lea out of the wind. I raised my hand to them as I passed and they raised their hands to me. One of them had his hands wrapped around a steaming paper cup of coffee.

Another of the long-time shops on Pearl Street had "Going Out Of Business" signs in its windows this morning.

Its cold in the world right now. Really cold. In the early morning, unexpected tapping on the door sounds like danger arriving at my house. I wish the recession would stay a story on television rather than standing as a "going out of business" sign in the windows of yet another familiar, neighborhood shop.