By: Heidi L. Lane
September 2002
It was late when Martin paused in the doorway of his apartment and looked around. He’d already eaten dinner at a nearby restaurant because there was very little food in his apartment yet. “Where is she?” he wondered out loud. He closed the door and tossed his keys into the nearby basket where he kept them when he was home.
“Fibbie!” he called, “Where are you?” Feeling a little silly, he peered under his kitchen table and called, “Kitty, kitty?” Hearing a cabinet door slam followed by a muffled mew, he stood abruptly.
Shaking his head, Martin walked over to the nearest cabinet and peered inside calling, “Fibbie?” He could hear the thrum of her purr as she maneuvered her way among the pots and pans. “How’d you get in there?” he asked as he spotted her.
True to form she merely continued purring as she climbed out of the cabinet. Martin grinned and picked up the old cat. “Found your way in and couldn’t get back out, hm?” he asked as she rubbed her face on his chin. “Foraging, were you? Good thing I left you extra crunchies. Sorry I was gone for so long. I had to go to the hospital and they insisted that I stay over night for observation,” he explained as he opened a packet of cat food for seniors.
“Mr?” his companion said, speaking for the first time.
“Needless to say, I haven’t made the best first impression ever. I went off without telling anyone where I was going and got smacked over the head with a baseball bat.” Martin reached down and stroked the cat that was munching quietly. “You’ve lost weight,” he observed.
“Hm,” she replied, looking up from her bowl and beginning to wash her paws.
Martin shook his head, “Jack told Danny to make sure I got my head checked. He must think I’m an idiot. Things can only get better, right.” Fibbie finished with her paws and started washing her chest. “I suppose I should unpack,” Martins said, standing and pulling out a painting of a sailboat tossed on stormy seas. “Pushed around by forces I have no control over,” he mused as he hung it up.
“Eh,” Fibbie said softly as she jumped into a comfortable armchair and tucked her head under a paw.
“Well, if that isn’t a hint… g’night, Fibbs. Stay out of the cabinets, huh?” Martin said, heading down the hall to his bedroom. The old cat was right; things would look better after a good night’s sleep.
End