A new home

I was bored

I was born on the street.  

After my mother left me, I had to fend for myself.  

I rummage through garbage cans and beg for scraps to get food each day.  

I got into a lot of fights to protect my territory, but we all have to learn to get along here to survive.  

I sleep out in the open even on the coldest nights.  

I have no name for I have never had a family to name me or to love me.

It is a family I wish for more than anything in the world.  

I see them walking by on the streets, so happy together.  

They avoid me.  

Sometimes they even cross the street to stay away from me.  

Every once in a while a child will come over and start to play with me.  

But as soon as his parents notice, they rush over and pull the kid away as though they are frightened.  

They whisper things like, "She's dirty. There's no telling where she's been." or "She might be dangerous."  

    

Some children are not so kind.  

They throw stones at me.  

Grown men kick at me with their boots.  

I cower and scurry back to my dumpster.  

Sometimes when I am digging through a trash can, a man will open the door next to it and come out yelling at me and pushing me away with a broom.  

People use harsh voices and words to scare me away.  

I am so hungry and lonely but they won't even spare some scraps for me or take time to be kind.  

They treat me badly but I never get mean.  

I have never learned to be mean.  

Some of the other cats are harder than I am.  

They slap at people and hiss.  

I think they give us all a bad name.  

"Never, never go near stray cats," I hear parents say to their children when they come near me.  

I just purr and swing my tail as they pull the child away.  

I never cry.  

I did that once and found that it scared the people even more.

I might think all people were cruel to cats if I didn't see them with their own pets.  

But all the time people come by walking their dogs.  

They never let the dogs get near us even though the dogs seem to want to.  

I see the dogs with their shiny coat.  

Their ribs don't show through their skin, so they must eat well.  

Sometimes they even have human clothes on them to protect them against the cold.  

I know they are loved.  

I see their children playing with them.  

I see the old people give their biscuits.  

I see many of their owners stop and pet them.  

I am happy for those pets because their lives are not hard like mine.  

But I cannot help feeling sad.  No one has ever petted me.

I want more than anything to have a family.  

I especially want children to play with.  

The children seem to love cats most of all the people.  

Plus they have lots of energy to play.  

I am young too"only a year and a half old"and I would love to play.  

Sometimes I wish someone would stop to pet me and feed me biscuits.  

Then they would see how nice I am and take me home with them.  

I would be so loyal!  

I would try to be the best cat in the world.  

I would love my person more than anything because he saved me and took a chance on a ally cat.  

Sometimes I dream about this at night.  

My dreams are all that keep me going.  Someday, maybe, it will happen.

I don't know why no one wants me.  

No one has ever said I am ugly.  

I have short, white fur, with a little white on the tips of my toes.  

My ears are short and fluffy.  

I am medium sized and have a good disposition.  

I have seen other cats that look a lot like me but are very mean. 

None of them have white on their toes though.  

Could that be why no one wants me?  

My mother looked a lot like me.  

I've never seen my father though.  

I wish that people could look through my fur and see my heart.  

All I want to do is make someone happy.

Today, two men came with a big truck.  

A lot of the cats here ran away because people have been so mean to them.  

These men looked interested in cats though, so I stayed.  

I thought they might want to take me home.  

Each of the men had a long pole with a loop on the end of it.  

The sticks were kind of intimidating but I did not run away.  

Then one of the men talked in a low voice to me while the other ran after another cat.  

I purred with excitement.  

He did want me!  

All of a sudden the loop was around my neck and it was choking me.  

I whimpered and tried to get closer to the man but the long pole kept me away.  

He didn't want me near him after all.  

This was some kind of cruel trick.  

He dragged me to the back of the truck and pulled me up into a small confined place with bars.  

Then he let the loop off and slammed the door in my face.  

I listened to the cries of other cats as they caught them and loaded them up.  

What were they going to do with all of us?

They took us to a place with lots of cats.  

They were in bigger holding places but they were all behind bars.  

The man who had caught me put me into one of these places and then left.  

I noticed there was fresh water and food in here.  

I ate ravenously.  

Was this what a home was like?  

I didn't think so.  

There were too many cats and no people around.  

I asked the cat next to me where we were.  

He was street tough looking.  

He said,  "This is a place where they take and put all the unwanted cats from the street.  

Sometimes someone's pet gets loose and they bring them here.  

In a few days though, his family comes and takes him home.  

Sometimes people come and pick out a street dog they like and take him home with them.  

But most of those like us just stay."

"Forever?" I asked.

"No," he said, "If no one picks you out after three weeks, the people here come and get you.  

They walk you down that long hall there and no one ever sees you again."

"Maybe, they take you to a nice home," I said excitedly.

"Maybe," he grumbled.  "I don't know what they do with them.  

But I'll tell you something strange.  

All the people who take dogs home . . . go the other way down the hall.  

I've seen a few dogs taken home and a lot go down that hall.  

In fact, it happened to the cat who was in where you are just the other day.  

I tell ya, as soon as one of these things gets empty, they bring in another cat."

"You seem to know a lot about this place.  

How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

Now, I lay here in the dark and dream of a family coming and picking me out.  

Me!  

I am so happy.  

I rub their hands and faces.  The children crowd around me, petting me.  

They say I am the best cat in the whole world.  

They tell their parents, "We want this one." 

The parents nod and smile.  

Then we all leave together.  

My dream ends there because I do not know what a home is like.  

But I am sure it is wonderful.

The next few days I spend waiting and watching.  

People come in and look at all the cats.  

Most of them leave without one.  

I am determined to be on my best behavior.  

I will purr and wiggle my tail and whimper at everyone.  

I will jump up on the bars and try to paw at them.  

But very few people come by to look at me.  

They stop down the hall to look at the kittens.  

People must love kittens.  

When someone does leave with a cat, it is usually a kitten.  

I wish I was a kitten.   

Inside, I am scared that I am too old for anyone to love me.

A few people wander by to look at me and my new friend.  

Their eyes seem distant as they glance over me.  

I am not the one they are looking for.  

I do my best to get their attention.  

Apparently, I am not the only one who has thought of this.  

Most of the cats jump up on the bars and whine when people come by.  

I am just one of a great number of cats.  

I try to stand out, be special.  

I double my efforts.  

A lady comes by and sees me.  

I am bounding everywhere to get her attention.  

She steps back.  

"Too hyper," she mumbles, and shakes her head.  

She moves on.  

My body droops.  

I begin to see why some cats have given up and no longer get excited when people come by.  

My friend is one of those.  

He says he's been here so long he has no more hope of ever being chosen.  

He's just waiting for the three week mark.  

He says he's scared.  

I try to cheer him up by saying the hallway probably leads to a nice home.  

But I am not sure. 

I am very confused about this whole place.

One day a man walks by and I jump up to do my act.  

He doesn't notice me.  

He is looking at my friend who sees him but stays lying where he is.  

The man bends down and begins to call to him softly.  

At first my friend is hesitant.  

I wine at him.  

He gets up slowly and with slumped head goes to the man.  

The man holds out his hand and my friend begins to rub it.  

The man says kind sounding words and begins to pet him on the head.  

I feel a pang in my chest.  

No one who has looked at me has ever petted me.  

I see my friend perk up.  

He begins to rub the man's hands with fervor.  

He wiggles his tail and mumbles to me.  

"This might be my last chance."

Just now, one of the men who is here all the time comes up and begins talking to the new man.  

"You like this one?"

"Yeah," says the man, smiling.  

"He reminds me of a cat I had when I was a kid.  

He's got the same scruffy coat and bristly face, same cream color.  

He even acts as laid back as Cody used to."

"You decide you want him?"

The man's face looks all remorseful.  

He looks back at my friend.  

"He seems like a great cat, but I already have a male.  

I don't think they'd get along.  

I am looking for a female.  

I just had to stop to pet him.  

Poor old thing."

"That's too bad.  

He only has a few days left.  

He's been here almost three weeks."

"Aww," says the man sincerely, "That's a shame.  

But I've had two male cats before and all they did is fight.  

I really want a female.  

Too bad though.  

He seems like a good cat."

He doesn't even look at me im a female, what about me?

"Well, come this way then.  

I'll show you some more females."

Before the man walks away he leans down and pats my friend on the head one last time.  

"Don't worry boy.  

I'm sure you will find a good home."  

He stands up and walks away.

My friend slumps to the ground.  

"That was my last chance," he says sorrowfully.  

He doesn't speak to me for the rest of the night.  

He doesn't try anymore when people walk by.  

It's like he has given up on life.  

I think the words about the three week mark being a "shame" and the fact that he's a poor fella made us both very scared.

Two days later they come to get him.  

As they lead him off I yell at him to be hopeful.  

I tell him they are probably taking him to a good home.  

I don't really believe it anymore.  

If he were going to a home they would take him out the other way.  

But I want to believe.  

I need to.  

He doesn't even look back at me, just hangs his head and keeps walking.  

He disappears behind some doors.  

I never see him again.

The sight of his empty cage is depressing.  

I cry for him at night.  

I have no one to talk to.  

Three days later they bring another cat into his cage.  

She is smaller than me and scared.  

I have to tell her all about how this place works, including the walk down the hallway.  

She trembles, and inside so do I.

I have been her for about two weeks.  

My ribs don't show through nearly as much.  

I can't complain about the food or the company but I do miss running.  

Still, no one has petted me.  

I am less enthusiastic now when people stop to look at me.  

The hallway gives me nightmares.

I am laying in the far corner of my cage dozing peaceful.  

Suddenly, I am jerked awake.  

A guy stops by my cage.  

He is smiling.  

This must be my new family.  

The thought excites me but in a distant way.  

Right now all I can concentrate on his hands in my fur.   

The man bends down and says, "How you doing pretty girl?  

You sure had us worried."  

"Oh, I was worried too," I cry.  

"I thought I might never find you."

The man laughs gently as he stands back up.  

From the other side of the hall and down a few cages I hear whimpering and a bark.  

A lot of cats get jealous when they see someone else find a family.  

The man start talking and call for one of the men who is here all the time.  

I am so excited.  

I am about to be let out.  

I can go home with my new family.  

The guy bends down to pet me.  

Then his face looks confused.  

Before he reaches out for me to lick him, he stands up and starts saying something.

"That's not Cocoa!  

That cat has white on his paws.  

Cocoa's a pure bred white Persian.  

This is just some mutt."

I am startled still.    

This isn't my cat."  

My heart stops.

"Well, where is he?  

He has to be here somewhere?"  

I hear the cries from across the row again.  

"There he is.  

Oh poor baby, I  was ignoring you.  

He must feel so bad."

He start to leave to go to the other cat's cage.  

I get frantic.  

I start purring louder.  

He pulls away and gets up.  

I cry wildly, "No, please don't leave me."  

But it's too late.

I hear them cooing and talking to the cat over there.  

I hear the little girl say,  "I'm sorry Cocoa.  

I thought that other cat was you."

I watch as a man comes to get the other cat out.  

I hear him say, "Who knew you'd have another cat that looked so much like ours.  

I almost took the wrong cat home."

I watch them gather Cocoa's things and march merrily down the hall.  

The guy so absorbed in her own cat that he doesn't even look back at me.  

I lay down heavily on the floor.  

I am the wrong cat.  

They hadn't wanted me at all.  

I am "just some mutt," whatever that means.  

It means I am alone again.  

It means I am unwanted and unloved.  

He thought I was some other cat but that doesn't change the fact that for one moment, even if it was just a moment, he loved me.

I am depressed for the next several days.  

My neighbor is worried about me.  

She tells me there will be other people.  

But I have given up hope.  

She gently reminds me that my three weeks are almost up.  

That brings back the fear.  

I start acknowledging people when they come by.  

I jump up and whine, but it is a half the effort.  

I keep thinking about the guy"the only person who has ever petted me.  

I want someone to look at me that way again.  

I try to get people's attention but now it is mainly because I am afraid.  

I do not think anyone will want me like that again.  

And I don't want to walk down the hall.  

Days pass.  

No one else ever stops to look at me.

Finally, the day comes.  

They open my door and start hooking a rope to this thing which is around my neck.  

My neighbor is trembling.  

I am resigned.  

I hear her say, "Goodbye . . ."

"Cocoa," I say.  

"Call me Cocoa.  

That is what he called me.  

It's the only name I've ever had."

"Goodbye, Cocoa.  

Remember what you said.  

Maybe they are taking you to a nice home."

I look in her eyes.  

She doesn't believe it either.  

"Maybe," I mutter.

Then a guy walks pass and stops them "wait is this cat adoptable?"

"Yes she is but she is going to be put down to day in fact we are heading there now" the man says.

"Well if it's not to much trouble I will adopt her" he says.

They nod and remove the rope and pick me up and hand me to him.

I purr and try to relax a bit, but im scared.

"It's going to be okay relax" he says to me.

Finally I have a family and some one who loves me.