Plumette the Office Cat

I rather enjoy the simple fact that things always happen for a reason. It’s not a completely spiritual idea (although it does have a part to play in it) but rather my view of life in general. I’m a writer and have been for as long as I can remember, so when I think about life’s events, I can’t help but to think about literary elements that occur in a story. Things happen to teach us things, to create our character, or to simply move life along.

I was getting ready to go meet a potential client one morning. I was in a rush, because I was running late and was getting my shoes on when I looked over to my left and saw a black kitten sitting out on my front patio, just staring. My family and I live in an apartment complex so it’s not totally out of the ordinary to see a stray animal loping around, so I thought nothing of it. I got my shoes on and opened the door.

The kitten darted straight in and ducked for cover before I or my wife could grab it. I was running late, so I left for my meeting. My wife called me and told me she couldn’t get the cat to stay outside. It came back in quicker than she could close the door.

“Just keep the cat and I’ll go talk to the landlord when I get home,” I said to her.

Not long after I finished the meeting, I received a message from my wife with a picture of the cat laying next to my wife, as she was crocheting. I knew right then that the cat was more than likely going to stay. I came home and went to the office to talk to the landlady. Before I could tell her the color of the kitten, she said, “Is it the little black one?”

I nodded, yes.

“Yeah, she’s been getting out. Do you still have the cat?”

“Yes, I do. She’s in my apartment.”

She told me where to meet her with the kitten, so I went and retrieved the kitten with my middle and youngest child waving bye-bye to it. The landlady was already speaking with the tenant who emphatically disagreed that it was her cat. Her daughter had claimed it but it wasn’t theirs and she didn’t want it.

The landlady came to me after the door closed and said, “I know it’s her cat.” I had been holding the cat and petting it to keep her calm so she didn’t leap out and run off again. “Do you want to keep it? If not, I’d have to just take her to the humane center.”

I’m not a cat person, and neither is my wife, but I looked down at the little kitten with its marble eyes and thought of how my middle son had named her “Plumette” (Ploo-met, like the feather duster in Beauty and the Beast) already. I told her we’d take the kitten.

We got a collar and all the cat things for it and took it to the vet to find out it neither had a chip or vaccinations. We got her healthy and she resides in our home. I do have anxiety and depression, so at night after a stressful day of building my business I enjoy sitting down and petting the cat or shooting foam balls out of one of those atomic poppers for her to chase. In return, Plumette climbs on my chest at night in my bed and proceeds to groom my beard. It’s a strange feeling and I’m almost ashamed to say I like it.

It’s hard to fully analyze something when you’re in the moment, so I can’t really say what the purpose of the Plumette’s entrance into our lives will be. Is she just a kitten that appeared out of nowhere for the sake of a nice story, or for our character development of owning a pet...or perhaps because we needed a little extra free therapy. Petting a kitten while it’s curled up next to you purring is very therapeutic, after all. Like in all things, only time will tell the purpose of this story.