From my living room, I can hear soft crying. At first I assume it's one of the neighborhood children. They wake me up with their noisy banter, and now they must be playing a new game, Annoy the Single Lady Who Just Wants To Read Her Goshdamned Book. But as the noise gets louder, I realize that it is not the back-and-forth of the mini-thugs, but the pained mewing of a kitten. It sounds very young and very scared.
If I had a superhero costume, I would don it, but I don't. So I do the next best thing, grabbing a handful of Mikan's food for the lost kitten. Mikan circles my feet, trying to guilt me into giving him treats. It doesn't happen. Instead, I use the opportunity to lecture my cat on just how good he has it: "You see, I'm always telling you! Other kitties don't get to live in a nice apartment with a lady. They have to live in the alley." Mikan stares at me with the bare contempt of a sullen teenager, and I pick up the scraps of my fallen dignity before leaving the apartment.
Outside, the meowing is becoming louder still. The noon sun is bright and scorching. Suddenly, in the alleyway next to my building, I remember that I have not yet put on sunblock for the day. A deep debate goes on between the cat-helping do-gooder and the vampirelike sun avoider. I consider going back inside to slather on the SPF 50, but then I see a leafy bush twitching in the neighbor's backyard. It is either a rat or a kitten, and I decide to take my chances.
"Oh kiiiiiiittttyyyy," I coo. "I brought you some food!"
A blur of grey, black, and orange darts past me. For a tiny moment, I think, "Mikan is cuter than that kitty," and I feel like a bad person. The homely little cat has taken refuge behind the smelly garbage cans about 15 feet away. Being careful to stay in whatever shade there is, I tiptoe closer and try to lure the kitten out with the cat food. We make eye contact, and I make kissy sounds at it. The cat runs away, still meowing. I give gentle chase, but cannot find it anywhere. After 20 minutes of following the mews, I leave the cat food outside and resignedly return to my apartment. Mikan is waiting there, still begging for treats, and this time I give in.
If I had a superhero costume, I would don it, but I don't. So I do the next best thing, grabbing a handful of Mikan's food for the lost kitten. Mikan circles my feet, trying to guilt me into giving him treats. It doesn't happen. Instead, I use the opportunity to lecture my cat on just how good he has it: "You see, I'm always telling you! Other kitties don't get to live in a nice apartment with a lady. They have to live in the alley." Mikan stares at me with the bare contempt of a sullen teenager, and I pick up the scraps of my fallen dignity before leaving the apartment.
Outside, the meowing is becoming louder still. The noon sun is bright and scorching. Suddenly, in the alleyway next to my building, I remember that I have not yet put on sunblock for the day. A deep debate goes on between the cat-helping do-gooder and the vampirelike sun avoider. I consider going back inside to slather on the SPF 50, but then I see a leafy bush twitching in the neighbor's backyard. It is either a rat or a kitten, and I decide to take my chances.
"Oh kiiiiiiittttyyyy," I coo. "I brought you some food!"
A blur of grey, black, and orange darts past me. For a tiny moment, I think, "Mikan is cuter than that kitty," and I feel like a bad person. The homely little cat has taken refuge behind the smelly garbage cans about 15 feet away. Being careful to stay in whatever shade there is, I tiptoe closer and try to lure the kitten out with the cat food. We make eye contact, and I make kissy sounds at it. The cat runs away, still meowing. I give gentle chase, but cannot find it anywhere. After 20 minutes of following the mews, I leave the cat food outside and resignedly return to my apartment. Mikan is waiting there, still begging for treats, and this time I give in.
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