Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Kind (10/17/24)
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TITLE: Pogo | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marilyn Meiners
10/22/24 -
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That’s right.
I know what you're thinking, “well that’s a strange name for someone.” Not really. You see, I’m not a human…
I’m a cat…and this is my story.
I don’t remember much about my mom or where I was born, I only remember at about two months of age I was homeless. I had no mom. I had no home. I roamed my neighborhood looking for any handout I could find.
I often came upon a person I thought would help me, but they would only shout “Go away!” Or “Get out of here!” - and I would scamper away. I did learn how to be a good “mouser” and found that mice make a wonderful and delicious meal.
One day, while hiding in some bushes, I saw this couple sitting on their back patio. They were talking and laughing. They seemed so nice.
I observed them for awhile then dared to creep out of the bushes and watch them some more. The lady spotted me and called to me.
“Here Kitty,” she called.
At least I think she was calling me. I looked around and didn’t see anyone else, so, yes, she was definitely talking to me. That was the first kind voice I heard in forever.
The next think I knew, she brought out a bowl of milk and sat it on the edge of the patio. Was that for me? Oh, how good it looked. Dare I go over and give it a taste? Would the lady (or the man) harm me in some way? If they were going to harm me, why would they give me some milk?
Questions! Choices!
I’ll take my chances.
Inching my way closer to the bowl (while still keeping a wary eye on this couple) I managed to reach the milk. Oh Yum! It was heavenly, and it sure tasted better than stale rain water.
Finishing my meal, I backed away, even though they encouraged me to come closer. I was scared of what they might do. Would they yell “go away” as others had done?
Day after day we repeated this same scenario. However, I noticed one thing different each time. My bowl kept getting closer and closer to where they were sitting.
Eventually I was eating at their feet and no one yelled at me!
Several times they tried to pet me, but I was skittish and afraid. I would jump, then run away. One time, however, the lady managed to rub her hand across my back. Oh, that felt so nice. She had soft, kind hands and I liked her gentle touch.
But, could I trust her?
One day, before I had a chance to even breath, she surprised me by picking me up. You can be sure I didn’t stay in her lap very long. In the twinkling of an eye I was off and running up the hill. But, I came back for more.
Each time she spoke in soft, loving words that reassured me she would do me no harm. The next time she picked me up and I decided to stay on her lap.
Surprised even me!
I let her pet me as I purred away.
Imagine that! My purring machine was working overtime. I loved her gentle touch and her kind heart.
They even gave me a name - Pogo. I really didn’t care what they called me, I just wanted them to love me. I heard the man tell the lady “we’ll name her Pogo because she is always jumping around, like being on a pogo stick.”
I like the name. It fits me to a “T”.
I am now seven months old and we are best friends - this lady and me. I still live outside (allergies I heard the man say) but they brought me a nice cat-house to live in when it is nasty weather and give me several meals a day. Life couldn’t get any better.
The best part of my new family is this; whenever I need someone to love on me, they are there. I eagerly let them pick me up and find contentment laying in their lap as they stroke my furry self.
I love my new family.
There are kind people in this harsh world and I found two of the kindest people ever, who eagerly took in a stray cat and never yells at me to “go away.”
This story is fiction and Pogo is my adopted cat
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