Meeting Kafka for the first time
Exactly one year ago today I entered a room full of cats. They were playing, loafing around, jumping against my legs…
Then, out of nowhere, a fluffy creature appeared. His fur was wild and messy, his voice was raspy. He walked over to me, looking a little bewildered. “Is that you?” I asked and he meowed, and somehow I couldn’t help but burst out in laughter. He looked so misplaced in that room and he sure didn’t think he belonged either.
We played for a little bit. There were shelves on the walls, all across the room. I ran from one side of the room to the other, and he, high and mighty, followed me swiftly – left, right, left. When he was done with that game, he decided that we needed to go outside.
There was a fenced in catio. On his way over he passed one of the other cats, sneakily slapped him and kept on walking with an air of nonchalance. This is no ordinary cat, I thought. I promised him to take him home as soon as they’d let me.
When I left the cat quarters of the shelter, he ran after me and swung himself into the glass door. I believe that’s when Kafka chose to adopt me, and I’ve been blessed with his love ever since.