Welcome home, Soup

It sits in the middle of my floor - watching me. Waiting. It doesn't matter which way I move, its eyes track me. I take a few steps left. It follows me. Right a few more steps, it’s still following me. I can’t see much of it, but its eyes reflect in the light from the entryway, so I know it’s there, and I know it’s watching me.

I wrack my brain to figure out how it got here. Did I leave the door open when I left earlier today? Or did I perhaps leave the window in my bedroom open? I can't seem to think of anything, but it doesn't really matter - it’s inside and I’m not exactly sure how to get it back outside. It doesn’t look threatening, but it also doesn’t look friendly.

I try to think of what to do. Should I speak to it and see what happens? Leave it alone and hope it finds its way back outside through wherever it came in? Circle around it and try to get it to leave out the front door? I watch it; it watches me, and I try to come up with a plan. My brain cannot come up with any actual sense of a plan, so I decide I should just wait it out a bit. I slowly lower myself to the ground, its eyes still tracking me. Just before my butt hits the ground, I have a terrible feeling in my gut - I’m putting myself in a fairly defenseless situation and I don’t even know what the full situation is. My ancestors must be rolling in their graves right now. I shake it off and convince myself I’m fine. It’s so much smaller than I am.

I sit, and I find myself in a position where I can look more closely at it. It hasn’t moved, aside from its eyes, and I’m impressed by how stoic it is. How can something so small be so calm in a moment like this? It looks a little rough, like it hasn’t lived the best life recently, and I think I can see a hole in its ear. I wonder what kind of scrap it was involved in and if it included humans. I definitely need to come up with a plan if it’s a fighter, and if it fights humans, that plan had better keep my precious skin away from it.

I lean forward to put my elbows on my knees as I am trying to come up with a plan when I feel my heart race as my hand reaches out involuntarily. I try to pull it back, but it’s as if it’s moving on its own now. Horror and dread fill my body as I see my hand near the animal and it shifts its weight and I can see it wiggling, preparing to leap. I close my eyes, hand still reaching forward, and my heart is racing as I brace myself for the pain that will surely come.

Wait - something soft. Instead of pain, I feel something soft pushing into my hand. A sound begins like purring. I slowly open my eyes, and I watch as it wraps its head and body around my hand, petting itself on me. I watch it arch its back under my hand, turning in circles, making sure that every spot on its coat gets a pet. When I try to pull away, it follows and pushes its head into my hand again. I stare, confused, as it moves closer to me. The eyes that were staring so intensely no longer seem like a threat. Instead, they seem sweet and afraid. I feel my heart beat a little stronger as it stares up into my eyes.

“Well hello, little kitty. How did you get in here?” It turns its head away from me, as if to say, “I’m not telling,” and I smile.

“Are you hungry, little guy?” I wonder, mostly to myself. I assume it’s hungry, but I don’t expect it to actually answer me. When it climbs on my lap, puts its paws on my shoulders and bops its nose against mine, I laugh out loud. “I’ll take that as a yes!” I stand and head to the fridge.

“Sorry I have little food right now, but here’s some beef soup I have left over from yesterday… I guess you probably don’t need it warmed, do you?” I look at the microwave and giggle, the idea of heating soup for a stray cat making me laugh, and I set the soup down. The cat looks up at me, licks its lips, and digs in - lapping quickly at the soup, like it hasn’t eaten for days. While it’s distracted, I look for a collar, a tag, a tattoo - anything that would show it has a home, but there is nothing I can find. I sit and watch it eat for a moment while I struggle with what my heart says I should do.

“Where did you come from, little guy? Do you have a family that’s missing you? You’re welcome to stay here for a while, and we’ll see if they come look for you. If they don’t, you can stay as long as you like. What do you think?” I hold my breath, like I’m expectantly waiting for its answer, even though I know that’s crazy. It stops mid lick, looks up at me and slowly walks towards me and I sit on the ground again. It climbs onto my lap and presses its head against my chin, purring the loudest I have ever heard a cat purr. “Another yes,” I say, “and this one sounded very adamant. I suppose you need a name then, don’t you?” It heads back to the soup, like having a name is the last thing on its mind, and I think about names.

“I’ve got it,” I say out loud. “What do you think of Soup?” It looks up at me over the soup bowl and tilts its head to the side for a moment, then goes back to eating. “Okay then,” I smirk, “Soup it is. Welcome home, Soup.”