To the tortoiseshell cat who followed me for such a great distance as I was walking towards my car in the deserted parking lot,
Did my casual rubbing create a bond so tight, enough for you to accelerate towards me at such a speed that could rival my own running? Did you crave for more scratches below your chin, or did you sense that I could be a Provider (of food, not affection)?
I am sorry, but I could not allow you to follow me back — or cross the road, for that matter — at 2am, vehicles ignore the presence of strays on the tarmac, especially you, dusty and small.
I had to loose you, turning your body away from me as I make a dash, running to escape your vision, tiptoeing almost, landing softly so I could make a discreet exit.
Unfortunately, you followed me with senses so sharp, as if I were a prey you needed to kill. Except, every time I stopped, you would stop too, brushing yourself against me again, looking at me, meowing sweetly (not hysterical clawing). I had to repeatedly ask you to stop. Two lonesome beings talking to each other in a language incomprehensible to the other. But how would I know you were even lonesome?
You still wouldn’t leave me alone.
In the end, I darted away, like a sprinter, hoping you would keep to your perimeter, hoping I won’t hear any terrible sounds of animal and machine colliding. I turned back to see you prancing towards me, crossing a road where a car was dangerously approaching, but you knew better than to risk your life for me, a 5 minute affair.
You hid below another car, watching me watching you, and then disappeared, to my relief. Another quiet night ahead…