The Angry Geologist Meets Krosp II

I heard it before I saw it. This high pitched, pathetic mewing that came over and over again as I was walking Roland. He was the nose and I was the eyes and ears as we came closer to my apartment door. And there, pacing and rubbing against my neighbor's door was a small, beautiful grey cat.

Roland and I stood there for a minute, looking, waiting for the door to open and the family to take their pet back, but they never did. The animal was a little afraid of Roland, but that abated quickly when he allowed it to approach and sniff first.

There was really nothing I could do. I don't want a cat. I don't know the first darn thing about cats. I'm allergic to cats, even cute little grey ones. So we went inside, I took Roland off his leash, and was immediately slammed with a wave of soul-rending guilt.

How could you? my conscience demanded of me. How could you leave that cute little cat out there on a night like this? You know how cold and wet it is! Does he even have food? Or fresh water?

I'm not supposed to feed strays, I responded.

Tell that to the cat!

So, I tethered Roland in the house, and took a little dish of water out there. I reused the container that held the watery mess of shredded white cabbage that the take-out place had called coleslaw from this evening. The poor thing was still mewing by my neighbor's front door.

Because I am mildly crazy and I talk to animals as if they could reason, I said, "All right cat, I'm going to leave you some water for the evening. But I can't keep you. Just to get you through the night, all right?" I held the bowl down and let it sniff the fresh water before I set it down by the bush next to my door.

I am a sucker, you know that? Because no sooner did I set the bowl down did Krosp II (See Girl Genius) start weaving around my legs, still mewing like crazy. I stood on that doormat for a few minutes arguing.

"No kitty, I can't keep you!"

"Mew!"

"I'm allergic to cats!"

"Mew!"

"You must have an owner somewhere! Why can't you bug him!"

"Mew!"

"I have a dog!"

"Mew!"

I took advantage of a brief moment of distraction to dart inside and shut the door right away. Roland was sitting peaceably on the couch, probably wondering what was the big deal, and if it would translate into food. Krosp was mewing, louder and louder outside my door, reminding me slightly of the groaning of the shambling zombies approaching the building where the heroine is holed up.

I tried to think; who might have a cat around here? Krosp looked cared for, and didn't have that wild and hungry look I associate with ferals. In any case, if it was feral, it had no fear of humans or dogs, and at some point must have belonged to (owned?) both. The first image that my mind called up was that of T, my elderly neighbor who I knew had adopted several cats from a local rescue. I had just seen him outside, and believed he might have been still up. But since I didn't have a phone number, getting him would mean going outside, and going outside carried substantial risk of becoming Krosp's owner/servant. But if I didn't, there was a substantial risk that this poor cat would spend the night outside, cold, wet, and uncared for.

My conscience started glaring at me and tapping her foot. She can really be a bitch sometimes.

I relented; but I wasn't going to get fooled here. I got Roland and put him on his leash, intending to use him as a blocker to prevent Krosp from getting in the apartment. If he did that, it was going to be all over. Now, I had been trying to train him to not run out of the door like a crazy beagle, so that if he ever was out of control when the door was open, I'd at least have a few more seconds to grab him and prevent an escape. But since I've been having to keep reminding him that We Sit Before We Go Out, I figured that he'd try and bolt again, and that would block the door.

What a time for the training to stick.

While he was sitting patiently, waiting for me to say "Okay!" Krosp took advantage of the open door and darted into my apartment. And that's when I did something stupid.

I had no idea what Krosp's background is. For all I know, it could be a distemper-ridden SARS carrier with severe territorial aggression issues, but you don't think about that when your lizard-brain is reacting to a cat in your apartment that shouldn't be there. I grabbed it and picked it up before it got too far inside, and was pleasantly surprised to find my face still attached a few seconds later. I carried him back outside, intending to go all the way to Tom's apartment when I saw that all the lights were off.

I carried Krosp around my part of the complex, looking for potential distraught cat-owners wringing their hands in worry because their kitty had gotten out without its collar. No such luck. Krosp tried to wriggle out of my hands a few doors down, so I sat him down on the sidewalk and watched as he tried another door. That really high pitched sound? Yeah, that was my heart breaking.

I gave in. I put Roland back, and set out the lid to the container with a couple pieces of kibble in it next to the water dish. Then, I put a blanket out on the patio for the cat to curl up in, so it could stay warm and dry. Disappointed that the new cat did not mean Food, Roland went to sleep on the couch again.

I can not have a cat.

I can not have a cat.

My conscience will shut up any time now.

Damnit.