I had just finished stirring my favorite soup recipe, portuguese kale soup. I poured myself a big bowl. I was going to need to freeze this soup because I can’t eat a whole pot on my own and DS won’t touch it with a pole. It’s green, see. Makes sense to him, not to me. Ah the joys of parenting a 33-year-old.
I sat at my table looking out over the back porch. There was a tiny kitty climbing up the steps and he looked lost. He looked like he was wondering if he’d finally found his home. I watched him to see if he would sit down and he did. Poor little fella was tired of roaming around looking for where he belonged.
Thoughts ran through my mind. I wondered how Maggie would take the intrusion of a kitty into her home. Would she hiss at it or welcome it? Was I asking for trouble bringing the kitty inside, because he looked like an indoor cat who just was in the wrong place.
I made up my mind but knew I would have to trap him. He was bound to be people shy after running around the neighborhood. I grabbed the beach towel out of the laundry basket in the dining room. I remembered how the vet used a towel to calm Maggie down so she could get shots.
I opened the back door as quietly as I could. I didn’t need to worry because kitty was so tired he didn’t move. I bent over and picked him up. He snuggled against my face, making himself a Mommy for life. I brought him inside and busied myself making him lunch and a big bowl of milk to let him know he was safe.
Maggie looked at him, a slight hiss on her lips. Then she got curious and sniffed at the kitty. He seemed to know they were the same species as he sniffed back. They batted each other with their paws. Then they started cleaning each other’s fur, just in case it was dirty.
Kitty needed a name. Maggie decided on Max and I agreed. He was a maximum adorable cat and he found a home – outside getting lost – he found his true home. I would never let him outside again and while he would miss the mice and the smells, he would be thrilled to be safe. Max is at home.