Short story: Destiny

I scanned each pen, trying to ignore the smell of pine disinfectant. I knew exactly what I was looking for. I wanted a cat to replace my beloved Rumpole. Rumpole had been a sociable lace-point, both loving and lovely. When I'd strolled through the pound all those years ago he'd literally reached out and snagged me. I was smitten. It didn't hurt that he was well formed and exotic looking, but the real clincher was his affectionate nature.

He'd been dead six months now, and I missed him, and I wanted that hole in my life to be filled. I was here to find another Rumpole.

For the fourth time, my feet dragged me unwillingly back to the cage of a scrawny, plain black kitten. Not even a kitten, really, he had to be five-six months old. And no personality whatsoever, unless you count raw fear as personality. I didn't.

"Yeah. What. So," I muttered, letting myself into his pen. Black kitty was clinging with all his might to a twine-covered cat pole in the center of the pen. Against my will, I stroked him. He clung tighter still, his eyes huge with terror. As if possessed by alien spirits, I cradled him and plucked his claws from the twine, bringing him to my chest. He clung there, frozen.

An attendant hurried by on some task but stopped in surprise when she saw me in his pen. I made some vague and foolish gesture at him, and she approached.

"This is his last day with us," she said. "He's been marked 'unplaceable.'"

I raised an eyebrow.

"People want younger kittens," she explained. "And most of all they want playful, loving kittens."

She's right about that, I thought.

"But this poor fellow... I guess we'll never know what all happened to him, but it's sure left its mark. A shame." She scanned my face.

"Rmglmph," I said. She left, on about her business. This was so-o-o not the cat I wanted.

I tried to dislodge him and put him back on his pole, but it was much harder to get him off of me than it had been to get him off the pole. I rolled my eyes. I made exasperated noises.

"Well, time for me to go find my cat," I told him heartily. "I wish you well. Really." I stared out at the other pens. "I'm sure you'll find somebody." He kept staring at me with those desperate gold eyes.

"Oh, hell!" I snapped, more at me than at him. I looked around for another attendant, to get a carrier box and get on with it. Though it wouldn't have seemed possible, he adhered even tighter to me.