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The Story of Leroy

Going home at night from the library is always the same.   It doesn't matter what 

library, what season or how old you are, it’s always the same feeling.   Feels like being 

a student, like returning to your life after an immersion in knowledge.

I slung my tote bag, which is no longer a backpack over my shoulder and returned to 

the car.   At 52 years of age the library is still a place to learn.   It’s a place for me to 

study the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book with my sponsor who is 2 decades younger 

than I am and could be my daughter.   As I walked back to the car I was filled with a 

sense of peace that only self evaluation and introspection can lend.   The night was 

dark but still too warm for mid September.   There was almost no breeze and the air 

seemed thick.   I pondered the status of our air conditioning at home and reminded 

myself that my husband was frugal, above all else, and probably not running the 

cooling system.   I resigned myself   to enjoying the air conditioned ride home in the 

car and the hope that at least the master bedroom unit was running.

Amongst the sounds of the light foot and vehicular traffic, I heard a distinct animal 

noise.   Pausing outside my car, hand on keypad, I listened again.   Several more whining 

"meows" punctuated the evening.   I set down my bag and began to look around my car 

and the others nearby.   I certainly didn't want to run over someone’s pet.   The noise 

ceased and I paused again.   “Meow, meow” long and bleating.   “Here kitty.”   I got down 

on my old arthritic knees to peer closer to the tires on the car.   Still nothing.    At this 

point, I rocked back on my heels and waited in silence.  

No further sounds.   I brushed the tiny asphalt pebbles from my palms, slung my tote 

over my shoulder, and proceeded to punch in the code to unlock my car.   The interior 

light was synchronized with the last correct key entry and the lights flashed on.   I was 

startled.   My breathing halted for a moment and I found my moist palms flat against 

the driver’s side window.   The golden orange tabby cat,   seated on the driver’s seat, 

blinked his golden eyes adjusting to the light.   “How the?” Seemed to come out of my 

brain by way of my mouth.   I paused again, stared at the animal, and realized I had left 

the back rear window rolled down.   A side effect of the day’s earlier excursion to the 

Forest Preserve with my Siberian Husky, Delaney. 

“What the?” came next and a little ball of fear bounced inside my throat.   I realized I 

still hadn't actually opened the door, and now, I wasn't sure if I should.   Ferrell cats 

are not uncommon and they are not friendly or approachable.   Being however, the brave 

animal lover that I am, I stood behind the door, opening it wide. “There you go kitty” I 

begged the animal to depart unharmed.   “Come on, baby, out you go.”   Repeatedly, the 

cat blinked his eyes.   I swear he just winked at me.   After only a fracture of a second 

more, he turned tail, strolled over to the empty passenger seat, and turned a circle as 

he laid down.   Next, his hind leg propelled straight up so he could begin licking himself.  

I breathed a sigh of relief; realized I was not about to be clawed and scratched by a 

ragging, feline, rabid mongrel.   I slid into the car, leaving the door open just in case 

either of us still needed to escape in a hurry.

“Meow” as he stretched himself leisurely across the console and tested the squeeze of 

his claws on my bare thigh.   As I sat ever so still, the cat closed and released his grip a 

few times, then crawled up into my lap and rubbed his cheek against mine.   Oh boy,   I 

am such an easy mark for strays.   Dogs, cats, orphaned baby possums, or ducklings 

named Gilbert, it didn't matter.   I would rescue them all.   I closed the car door and 

started the engine.   Only a quick second thought before I drove home with my new 

friend standing on my lap, looking out the window while he purred and rubbed his 

whiskers along my jaw line.

Once I got on the road, I called Carley, my thirteen your old, for pet advise.   I can’t 

just bring him home, my husband would have a fit.   He professed to be a one dog, one 

cat family.   When one dies it can be replaced.   This would make two cats.   Over the 

limit. The cat however had no collar, didn't appear sick, mean or filthy and I couldn't 

very well throw him bodily out of the car and leave him to be hit by another.

“Mom! A what”   Yes, we established;   a homeless cat in my car.

“Dad’s going to kill you, Mom”.   That’s obvious but he’s not cruel either.  

I brought the cat home and closed him in the garage.   We filled a cardboard box with litter 

and gave him cat food, tuna fish and 

water.   He hungrily gobbled it all down 

and we gave him more.   It was decided 

that in the morning I would find his 

home or a new home.

The next morning I took him to a rescue vet to look for a microchip and test him for 

feline leukemia.   Negative on both counts.   I tearfully explained his homelessness to my 

husband, stressing the almost "higher power" this loving little animal seemed to have.  

He moved into our home and into our hearts.  

I still feel he was a positive sign of success with my new found sobriety.   After his de-

clawing, neutering and a round of repeated medical treatments for vomiting, he went to 

live with my 24 year old daughter and her boyfriend in their new, first house.   They 

claimed to be annoyed by his antics but, have supplied many of the pictures in the form 

of early morning text messages.   Leroy could virtually have his own Facebook.  

I visit him frequently and, upon arrival, I call his name.   He answers with several 

"meows". He comes running to meet me, and stands on his hind legs, front pays on my 

thighs.   After a brief "hello rubdown" I pick him up in my arms for a faithful cheek rub.

He truly has blessed all of our lives.

Not for Kittens

               Leroy loved to ride in the car.  

                   He would sit on your lap and 

                      look out the window or  

                    try to crawl by your feet.  

                        This could be hazardous 

                                   when driving.

Leroy loved to cuddle.   Lolli loved to cuddle too, but, Lolli did not like to cuddle 

with Leroy.        

Leroy was ready to

try almost anything

once.   He went to a

cross country meet on

a leash but after he 

slid out of the harness,

that ended his walks

outside.

Leash walking was

"Not for Kittens".

Leroy moved to a new house.

Katelynn and JJ were excited to 

have him.   Leroy would "MEOW"

loud and often whenever he wanted attention or 

to greet new visitors.

He was not shy.  

JJ was installing light fixtures and Leroy wanted to help.  

He crawled up to the top of the ladder.  

"Not for kittens"  scolded JJ.

So Leroy jumped 

to the top of the

refrigerator.

Katelynn was dusting the top of the refrigerator and 

Leroy wanted to help.

"Oh no you don't " said Katelynn. "Not for kittens." and 

she dusted him right down 

to the floor.

So Leroy explored the inside of the refrigerator.   Then, Leroy 

explored the oven.   He was fascinated that the light came on 

when the door opened.   JJ caught him in the kitchen.  "Not for 

kittens" he told Leroy.  

Leroy heard the dryer buzz and Katelynn took the warm 

clothes out and put them in a basket.   Leroy jumped in 

the dryer.

"Not for kittens!"

Katelynn took 

him out

of the 

dryer 

and

set him

on the

floor.

Leroy heard water running and ran to the sink.  

He was thirsty and got a drink.

"Leroy," said JJ. "Kittens don't like water.  

Not for kittens. I need to wash some dishes."

Wash dishes?  

Then what do you do in here?   Wash Cats?

"Silly Leroy.   Not for kittens." 

Katelynn laughed.

Katelynn and JJ couldn't find Leroy anywhere.   Sure 

enough, he was drying off in the shoe basket, chewing on 

laces.   "No you don't Leroy, those are my favorite 

shoes." said Katelynn.   "Out you go, not for kittens."

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