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The mischievous little boy called to the cat, “Here kitty, kitty, here kitty, kitty.” The cat eyed the boy thoughtfully, cautiously perhaps the cat thought he would be petted, stroked, or fed, so he eased his way carefully toward the boy. When he got close, the boy kicked him hard. The cat went flying through the air, landing several feet away. The cat starred at the boy but did not run away. A minute passed and the bratty boy began again, “Here kitty, kitty; here kitty, kitty.”
I watched to see what the cat would do. I was shocked to see the cat approach the boy again. I wondered how many times the cat would respond to the little boy’s “Here kitty, kitty”, three times, four times? Was the cat deceived by the boy’s call, or was he sadistic? Was he hungry? Was he empty? Then it hit me; I am the cat. I kept coming back, allowing the world to kick me; I wasn’t wise enough, after the first kick, to run like crazy.
Many years of living, have finally taught me, don’t hang around so people can “get their kicks.” By now, I’ve even become deaf to “Here kitty, kitty.”
3/20/2007
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