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| Mare Serenitatis |
There was a cat at the end of the street. He was
hungry and alone. He slept under an unfinished cement bench of sorts. I took a few minutes, every single day, to play and feed him. Every time he saw
me, he would jump and waddle up to me. A broken paw healed badly, for sure,
didn’t stop him from being lively and playful. Every day I would say hi, play a
bit and then say bye. Every day he would do the playful routine and at the end
go back to his place under the bench.
One day, he walked after me. I tried to convince him not to, with quite
a feeble amount of determination, I must admit. So he ended up following me up
to my doorstep. I was not that sure I needed a cat. I had never thought of
having a cat. But that was not the cat’s idea at all. He waddled inside, sat on
my couch and looked at me as if saying “yep, this is going to be my place from
now on whether you like it or not”. I did. And now I am not sure who nurtures
who these days.
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