By David Alan

      The pear-shaped cat sits in my window watching me approach.  He is ginger in color and has eyes of green with gold outlines.  He greets me at the door and meows with pleasure when I speak his name, “Charlie”.  I ask how his day was and he purrs even more loudly.  I think he must recognize at least a few of my words.  I make my way over his sinewy form to grab the treats that have become part of my returning home routine.  I do make him stand on his hindquarters to take the tender morsel from my fingers.  He reaches it with nearly no effort.  He has grown much since coming home with me.  I found him online listed with one of the local shelters.  At first, I was not certain if he would be the right companion for me.  He had a rather crazed appearance.  I suppose I might too if I had been brought in through lost-and-found.  I really should not judge too harshly.  After all, I have that driver’s license photo as evidence.   I am much less photogenic than he is.  He needs to be cute, especially with some of his antics.  
    
     When I arrived at the shelter, I completed all the necessary paperwork to qualify myself as a competent pet-parent.  I had no other animals and I could provide all the necessary amenities a fuzzy child might need.  I don’t remember so many forms when I financed a vehicle.  I suppose it’s a good thing to keep out the riff-raff.  I looked around the shelter but did not see him in any of the displays.  I asked one staff member to help me look.  She was not able to locate him any time soon, so she escorted me to a side room and asked me to wait.  In a moment, she returned to me with my forms in-hand.  We discussed what kind of companion I was expecting.  I had been thinking about this moment for several years and explained that my last experience was over ten years prior.  She had a knowing look in her eyes as I explained about my “Betty”.  We were together thirteen wonderful years and the pain of her passing was something I could just now get over.  I was finally ready to open my heart and home to another fur ball.
     
     She brought one cat after another, to no avail.  They did not quite fit the picture I had in mind.  The personalities did not measure up to what I just knew my future companion possessed.  He was smart and sassy, affectionate and independent.  He was the one for me.  I knew he was waiting for me.  A young female with dark fur and sleepy-looking eyes, then an older female with a hateful gaze all were presented before me.  I was not having it.  The worker brought cat after cat and kitten after kitten.  None was good enough in my eyes.  I had to meet “Charlie.”
    
     Finally, she located him.  He was in the vet’s office for a dose of medicine.  It seems that upper respiratory infections are common among pound animals.  I winced when she said it.  How dare she, he is to be my treasured friend for years to come.  I will not have him referred to in such terms.  When she placed him on the floor, he proved to be exactly as I expected, a furry snake with legs as he searched the room exploring every crevice and hidden part.  He explored then came over to investigate me.  He searched out another part of the room behind the desk and came to make certain I was still watching him.  He climbed into my lap and clinched the deal by turning his motor on.  The sound is comforting to me even to this day. 
    
     I paid all the required fees and even paid extra to have another shot given on-site.  It would have cost more at the vet’s office.  It seemed a small price to pay for such a prize.  Looking back, I would have paid double, even triple considering the joy he brings me daily.  A free vet check-up was included with the fees.  I was given a booklet of local vets from which I could choose.  I located one just a few blocks from home.  How convenient, they have Saturday hours, too.
    
     Bringing him home was an adventure.  The shelter provided a cardboard box only about twice his size.  He was very vocal about his feelings of being in the box, too.  Before I was a block away, he began making  a noise like something out of “The Exorcist” with Linda Blair.  The air holes were about the size of a quarter, but not for long.  A paw appeared and waved around searching for something.  A few moments later, he clawed his way partially through the box and looked like the creature bursting from someone’s chest cavity in the movies.  I was about as stressed as the cat.  Here I am driving in rush-hour traffic and he’s trying to “get” me for liberating him from the shelter.  Sweet mother of pearl, help me, he’s escaping.  He’s out of the box.  What is happening?!   He becomes silent as he approaches me.  I am afraid he’ll become trapped under one of the pedals and we’ll crash and burn.  I imagine the headlines for this one.  He climbs onto my lap and turns to face me.  I’m mesmerized as he stands up and nuzzles my neck and gives me a sort-of hug.  He lays down and begins to purr.  My heart melts.  I made a good choice.