After two years, even my friends stopped asking about him.
One person told me, “Claire, you have to move on.”
I wanted to.
I really did.
But every time I thought about putting away his food bowl, I pictured him sitting somewhere hungry, waiting for me to find him.
So I kept the bowl in the kitchen cabinet.
Once a year, on the date he disappeared, I placed a little food on the front porch. It was silly. I knew that.
But hope can make a person do things that don’t make sense to anyone else.
Now, in that unfamiliar parking lot nearly twenty miles from home, the skinny orange cat stared at me.
I took one step forward.
He backed away.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
A boy came around the corner carrying a paper plate with some dry cat food on it. He looked about thirteen.
“Don’t get too close,” he said. “He runs from everybody.”
“Does he live here?”
The boy shrugged. “He’s been hanging around for maybe six months. I leave food when I can.”
I pointed toward the cat.
“Have you ever seen his left ear?”
The boy nodded. “It has a little notch or scar. I thought maybe he got caught on a fence.”
My knees nearly gave out.
I crouched on the pavement and called again.
“Nacho.”
The cat watched me, but he did not move.
I held out my hand.
For one second, I believed he would come to me.
Then a car door slammed across the lot.
The cat turned and ran between two buildings.
I sat down right there on the pavement.
The boy looked at me carefully. “Was he yours?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
My voice cracked.
Then I told him everything.
I told him about the open door. The flyers. The false calls. The years of wondering whether Nacho had been cold, hungry or scared.
“I kept looking because I couldn’t stand the idea that he might still be waiting for me,” I said.
The boy sat on the curb beside me.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Finally, I stood and wiped my face.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I guess I got carried away.”
I turned toward my car.
That was when I heard it.
A low, rough meow.
The cat was standing behind me.
He looked even smaller up close. His fur was dull, and one eye was watery. He was ready to run, but he stayed.
