Annie's Decision

On Saturday, the animal shelter is filled with voices. Dogs scratch at their doors, baying and yelping, but in a large, wire enclosure, the kitties meow softly. The dog area smells musty, but the kitty pen smells sweet, like alfalfa.

I thread my fingers through the cool wire of the gate. I can't see the kitties because I'm blind. I listen hard. Do any of those meows sound like kitten meows?

“I don't think I hear any kittens, Mom.”

“You're right, Annie. But there are lots of cats…fat ones, skinny ones, some with long tails, and one with no tail!”

I hold Mom’s warm hand as the shelter director, Mrs. Pat, takes us inside the cat pen. I sit down and stretch out my hands to pet the kitties. A big, warm kitty sits down against my side.

“Sammy likes you, Annie. He’s the big one,” Mrs. Pat says.

“I like him, too.” I pet Sammy’s soft, furry coat, his loud purr rumbling under my fingers. “Will Sammy get adopted today?”

“Maybe,” says Mrs. Pat. “He’s an older kitty, and most people want kittens. But he’s so loving, maybe today will be his turn.”

My mom and I take a pregnant cat, Muffin, home with us. We’ll care for her until she has her kittens. Then we’ll care for the kittens until it’s time for them to come back to the shelter to find new homes.

But I can keep one kitten for myself!

I give Muffin her food and water every day and brush her coat. One morning, I get a surprise! I can feel soft, mewing little bundles inside the box with Muffin! “Mom! The kittens are here!”

I try not to bounce while Mom checks each of the kittens. “How many are there?” I ask.

“There are six. They’re all about the same size, except for this one. He’s big!”

“Like Sammy,” I say.

“Not quite that big,” Mom says with a laugh.

The kittens lie like furry beanbags on the soft flannel. Mom tells me that the kittens’ eyes are shut at first. They’re kind of like me, I think.

When I hold them to my cheek, they feel silky and smell sweet and oaty, like a field of summer grass. Their mews are high and tiny.

“So, do you know yet which kitten you’ll keep?” Mom asks me one day.

I bounce on my knees. “Oh! How do I choose?”

“Well, try to listen to your heart.”

Once the kittens’ eyes are open, they begin to play, climbing on my legs and up my arms, their little claws pricking lightly like needles. Sometimes they fall asleep in my lap.

The kittens will go back to  the shelter next week, but I still can’t decide which one to keep. Should it be Jet-Jet, with the long tail? Or Mimi, with the tiny voice? Or should it be Mr. Motor, the one with the humming purr?

A purr like Sammy’s, I think.

All the kittens are fun. But which is the right one?

On Monday, the shelter is quiet.

“What have we here?” Mrs. Pat asks.

“Six kittens and Muffin!” I tell her.

“And did you keep one at home for yourself?”

“No,” I say. “I can’t decide.”

“Now is the time,” says Mom. “You stay here and pick your kitty while I take care of the paperwork with Mrs. Pat.”

I sit down in the cat room. When I open the carrier, the kittens jump past my fingers to explore their new place. In a moment, the carrier is empty, and all the kittens are gone! I stretch out my hands, but I can’t find them anywhere. Then I feel a warm body curl up against my side. I pet the kitty, and hug the kitty, and the kitty loudly purr, purr, purrs.

“It’s Sammy, isn’t it?” I whisper. “I know it’s you! Why don’t you have a home yet?” Sammy just rubs his head against my cheek and purrs. His purr is so loud, it rumbles against my heart.

When Mom and Mrs. Pat come back, Sammy is snoozing in my lap.

“I’ve picked my kitty!” I announce.

“You have? Which one?” asks Mrs. Pat.

“Sammy!”

“But I thought you wanted a kitten,” says Mom.

“Nope,” I say. “I want Sammy. I listened to my heart!”