by P. S. Gifford
|Friday, September 08, 2006
Jorge couldn't sleep. These days he often had trouble sleeping; ever since his wife had passed in a bizarre ballroom dancing accident three months previous. He still quivered if he happened to hear a foxtrot.
`Perhaps a nice late night walk would do me good?' he thought as he put his magazine on quilting down and stretched lazily.
Jorge whistled cheerfully as he put on his well worn tennis shoes, his New York Mets baseball hat, and his trusted tweed jacket. Then he raised his index finger, as if an idea struck him, and he marched purposefully into his kitchen and opened the fridge, and pulled out the remains of his lunch that was wrapped in cling film.
‘I might get hungry after a little jaunt,’ he pondered as he placed it not so carefully into his pocket.
He then slipped out of his front door and began to leisurely stroll along the silent shadowy sidewalks.
‘It is a tad chilly,’ he considered as he pulled his jacket a little tighter about him.
It was then he heard it, just as he went round the corner, a gentle soft purring.
Jorge stood completely motionless, and tried to focus on the gentle sound emanating in the harsh darkness.
The purring repeated, only a little louder this time…
"Hello there!" he said brightly a few moments later as he finally saw a beautiful tabby cat sleeking along a neighbor's garden wall.
"Aren't you a pretty thing, I used to have a cat just like you when I was a boy, bending down on one knee - and reached into his pocket to pull out the now somewhat mashed remains of a tuna salad sandwich.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty…” he purred back at her.
The cat, catching a hearty whiff of the tantalizing tuna, instantly raced towards him…
It was a pity that Jorge didn’t see the small silver tag around the cat’s neck that read Experimental Weapons Lab Research Project.