The Friendly Feline

            I have debated with myself back and forth for a while, whether or not to share this story. It is a tale that will certainly cause even those with an extremely open mind to be immensely skeptical. Those who question the legitimacy of this story need to understand a few things. First of all, I do not blame you one bit. If I were to read it myself, I would certainly not believe it either. Secondly, understand the fact that I have absolutely nothing to gain from being dishonest. And finally, honesty is a characteristic that I value above all else. The credibility of any person is in direct correlation with their character. Credibility is extremely important, and yet it is immensely fragile. It is like a priceless glass sculpture in mint condition. The artist may have spent years to erect his masterpiece, but once it is damaged or broken, it is impossible to restore it to its once pristine condition.

            When I was 12 years-old, I got my first ever job as a paper boy. At first I was really excited to take on the responsibility and to of course make money. My route consisted of Hazel St. and the section of Glenwood Ave up to its intersection with Prospect St., in Binghamton. It only took me a few weeks before I got into a good routine. I would wake up at 5, fold the papers, and then deliver then in about 45 minutes. Then I would shower and get ready to walk to school.

            I began the job during the summer when the sun would rise early, but by the end of fall I was working in the pitch dark every morning. After school, I would go to my customer’s homes to collect money owed. This aspect of the job quickly became a huge hassle. It seemed like my customers were never home, or else they would ask me to come back at a later date. Before I knew it, I was out attempting to collect almost every day.

            Once a week my boss would come to my house to collect money from me. There were several weeks when I would have to pay the man out of my own pocket. This would occur because my customers had often failed to pay me on time.

            It was also around this time when I realized that I was only making around $20 per week, which just wasn’t worth it. Getting up at 5 am was really beginning to wear on me. Also, considering the fact that I would walk an hr to school every day, it was tiring. It didn’t take long before I began to hate the job. Not only was I hardly making any money, I was also working every single morning. It was impossible for me to stay up late or to spend the night at a friend’s house. But, because I had accepted the job, I didn’t want to be a quitter and let people down.

            During the winter, performing my route only became more challenging. Walking around with the heavy papers (especially of Sundays) in the cold and snow was such a pain in the ass. I can remember a few times when I had slipped and fell on the ice.

           

            Anyways, one winter morning I went to the second house on my route. The customer lived in an upstairs apartment behind a tavern. While I was walking up the snow covered steps in the dark, an orange, tiger colored cat ran down the stairs like flash and scared the living shit out of me. My heart was pounding out of my chest and I almost fell down the steps. It took me a few moments to regain my composure and deliver that paper. After that incident, the rest of my route went as scheduled. That is, until I got to the second to last house on the corner of Hazel St. and Glenwood Ave.

            This particular delivery was also at a back door. While I was walking through the snowy driveway towards the back yard, I was suddenly frozen in place. That same cat that had frightened me so badly earlier, was sitting right in my path. I don’t know why he didn’t run away this time, nor did I know why the sight of him frightened me. But, there we were, starring each other right, waiting for the other to make a move.

            Now, the next part of the story is by far the most bizarre moment of my life. I don’t expect anybody to believe me, but I promise on my life that this is exactly what happened.

            The cat just sat there and wouldn’t budge, and neither would I. If I didn’t have a paper to deliver I would have just walked away. Finally, the cat said; “Hello”. The way he said it was exactly how any human would have said it. He didn’t speak with any type of kitty accent and it was not a possible ‘meow’. I literally seen his lips move when he said it and I was speechless. I was not on any type of drugs or alcohol either, I was 12. There was no possible explanation for this phenomenon, and my reaction was exactly was exactly what you would expect.

            I have seen a hundred scary movies in my life when people are running terrified, they keep falling down. I am here to tell you that this is something that really happens. It is not just a fabricated reaction manifested by scary movie directors. When you are completely terrified and running away as fast as possible, you will probably fall down. Then you will bounce back up immediately and run some more. You will run with every bit of energy you have and you might fall down again, and again.

            After my second fall, I ditched my newspaper bag and just ran straight home. I was living with my dad at the time. He had passed out drunk the night before, so waking him up is something that I would have normally never have attempted. But, considering the circumstances, I felt that waking him up would be certainly justified.

            I burst into his bedroom and shook him violently. He woke up half way and I quickly explained to him this terrifying series of events. He just rolled back over and gave me a resolve; “Just take Gator with you and finish your route”.

            Gator was my 3-legged pit bull. He had gotten hit by a car like 6 months prior and his leg was broken, I was balling my eyes out thinking he was going to die. The driver had never even stopped after running him over. We brought him to the vet that night and long story short….we ended up being a 3-legged dog.

            I was very frightened as I began walking with gator on a leash in front of me. It was still dark out, but I quickly found my bag of papers still lying in the middle of the road. I scooped them up and very slowly and cautiously delivered my final two papers. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter the cat.

            After school that day when my boss came to collect money, I told him that I was done delivering newspapers. He asked me if I could please continue for the next 2 weeks until they found a replacement. I didn’t even allow him to finish asking me the question; I told him that I couldn’t do it. I apologized for putting him in a rough predicament, but I had no choice. Of course I did not elaborate on the situation, I’m sure he would have just thought I was nuts. Heck, I wouldn’t have blamed him one bit for thinking I was nuts either. I mean, come on, the story was absolutely unbelievable.

            Anyways, as the years passed, I have told this story to countless people. And of course their response is always the same. They think that I am a complete lunatic, a liar, or they come up with some abstract, logical reasoning.

            It has been almost 20 years since this experience, and as I look back at it now, I kick myself. I might have been witnessing a miracle of god. Maybe I could have stood there and had a full blown conversation with a talking cat. Maybe he was some type of magical manifestation of god, and he was going to reveal to me the secrets of the cosmos. But instead, I just ran away from him like a fricken coward. Who really knows?

            All I know for sure is that if I ever meet him again and/or another talking cat, I will certainly embrace the experience rather than run from it. Oh, and one final thing, if you ever happen to meet him, tell him I said “Hey”.