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She Cries No More

Story ID:7571
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Location:Caldwell Idaho USA
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She Cries No More

She Cries No More

It was only a year ago this month that we adopted
Bob the cat from the area where Ginny worked.
We got him his shots and had him neutered and
then found him a new home.

Now we've gone and done it again.

She Cries no More

“What was that?” I peered into the darkness beyond our balcony.

“What was what?” Ginny looked at me.

We sat on the balcony enjoying the stars. Over the noise of the traffic on the
highway in the distance, I heard it again. “I don’t know.” I paused and strained to hear.
“There! Do you hear it?”

Ginny turned in the direction of the sound. “Yeah! I do hear it.”

“It sounds like a bird, but what bird would be crying at night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fox is attacking the geese again.”

The noise stopped and we forgot about it until the next day, when I came home
from work. Once again we sat on the balcony and the noise started up.

“Ginny, that sounds like a kitten crying.”

Ginny listened closely. “You’re right! I wonder if one of the strays who raid
the dumpster had kittens?”

“That’s probably it. Those cats have been hanging around for months. They’re
sure to breed.”

For three days Ginny and I listened to the kitten crying in the brush. We looked
at each other. We knew something had to be done.

“Gin, do you want me to get it?”

Ginny sighed, “Yeah, go get it! The temperature is supposed to go down to 20
tonight. It will freeze out there in the brush.”

I went inside, put on my boots, because I had to crawl through high grass, and
slipped into my jacket. “I’ll be back.” I said to Ginny.

The grass, cold with frost, crunched under my boots. I dipped my head, stepped
through a hole in the fence behind the apartments and climbed over the barbwire fence
used to keep children from walking on the railways. I walked to the cluster of brush, where we thought the kitten hid.

The brush beside the track was eight feet tall and grew in a patch about twenty
feet by eight feet. I mimicked the cry of a kitten and was rewarded with a weak response.
The kitten’s cry came from deep in the center of the brush. I kept mimicking it and
worked my way toward the sound of the kitten. Near the center of the brush, I finally
spotted it. The kitten’s gray and beige markings blended perfectly with the brown grass.

I reached out and the kitten crawled between the stumps at the base of the bushes
and out of reach. I crawled out, circled the brush and approached from the other side.
Once again the kitten retreated and headed back to where I first spotted it.

When I circled the brush a second time, I spotted the kitten hiding in the grass.
I reached out, grasped it by the scruff of the neck, lifted into my arms and into my heart.

Back in the apartment, the stray kitten quickly adjusted and after a good meal
of kitten formula that Ginny made a quick trip to the store to get, was soon playing with
my fingers.

We guessed it’s a female and about four weeks old. Now it has a home. She
waddles unsteadily around our apartments, plays with the toys our cat finds no interest in
and cuddles with us. The little kitten is content. She doesn’t live in the brush and she
cries no more.

Michael T. Smith

Here's a video of Callie only a few hours after I rescued her. She adjusted fast and plays with me.