Caroline hadn’t seen the cat for days. Jim said he didn’t want to hear any more about it, even though she’d only mentioned it the once. He said he didn’t like cats, despite how this one would meow up at him when it entered their yard whenever Jim was outside. He told Caroline again that morning that she needed a hobby other than reading and feeding strays. He suggested she get a full-time job. When they were still trying to have a baby, he’d always worked from home and wanted her to be there, too. Now Jim went to the office a few days a week.
Caroline sat by the front window with her book. Every flutter of movement outside made her look up. A trio of crows kept returning to peck on the ground under the bird feeder. They squawked and flapped away when she opened the front door. She placed a small dish that held bits of leftover chicken on the front porch, then went back inside and sat by the window again.
Caroline didn’t know who the cat belonged to. He started showing up daily, months ago, and wore a thin blue collar, but no tag. She called him Cecil. It fit. She was certain every time he arrived in her front yard that he was responding to his name and not to the treats she held out on her palm. He was light gray and fluffy, didn’t have much of a tail, but what he had, he wagged like a dog’s. Cecil’s ears folded over at the tips. He would throw himself onto his back and let her scratch his belly as he rolled around on the doormat. Caroline would tell him how handsome he was and stroke his ears, but he wouldn’t let her pick him up. He always squirmed away and leapt down the steps before traipsing off into the woods. She was determined to hold Cecil in her arms eventually and maybe even bring him into the house. She’d have to do it when Jim was at work or away on one of his frequent business trips.
Caroline took a walk around the neighborhood, something she never did anymore, but Jim always did. He’d be gone for hours. She could appreciate why. She needed a distraction and the fresh air and exercise felt good. Still, she scanned every yard, every cluster of bushes. One front yard was heavily wooded and as she approached, Caroline couldn’t see the house until she was almost directly in front of the property. Through the trees, she made out movement at the front door and heard faint laughter and chatter. She could see a moving bundle of gray fluff on the steps and smiled. She walked a bit further on and saw a heavily pregnant woman sitting on the front stoop, holding Cecil and nuzzling him close to her face. Caroline’s cheeks burned and she felt sick.
She ran back to her own house and flopped down on the porch steps, trying to catch her breath. Jim’s words from that morning replayed in her mind. An odd calm came over her. Caroline decided tomorrow she would take another walk and introduce herself to the pregnant woman. She went back inside. The chicken on the dish was still sitting there, untouched and turning rancid in the afternoon sun.