My Story
Charlotte Hannah
December 06, 2012

Cats in My Apartment Building: A Very Fluffy Tale


Here at Twirlit, we usually like to start the day with some cool pictures from around the Internet: pictures that are either interesting, topical or just downright awesome. Recently, we brought you the house in the middle of the street, the Hawkeye Initiative and a DeLorean taxi.

Today, we’re going to try something a bit different. Allow me to present the tale of Cats in My Apartment Building.

For me, this morning began like any other morning. I woke up, ate breakfast, drank coffee, browsed Reddit, took a shower and got dressed. As I flitted around my apartment, gathering everything I anticipated I’d need for the work day, my cat wound himself around my legs, meowing abrasively as he waited for me to toss some kibble in his bowl. He’s the worst.

After feeding the cat, I left my apartment and headed downstairs. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned, and saw this:

Photo credit: Twirlit.com

There were kittens in my apartment building. They were huddled in the corner of the enclosed entranceway to the building, between the outside door and the locked door that leads into the building itself. As there was no one around and it gets very cold out in the entranceway, I knew I couldn’t just leave them until I was done work. I emailed my boss, who understands as well as I do that cute kittens take priority over just about anything else in life:

Photo credit: Twirlit.com

Then I called the humane society, who said they’d be there as soon as they could. In the meantime, I took pictures.

Photo credit: Twirlit.com

Upon further investigation, I discovered the two kittens weren’t alone: their mother, a skinny calico with bright yellow eyes, was with them. I headed back up to my apartment to get them some food, water and an old coat that could function as a makeshift blanket. As I filled up a Tupperware dish with kibble, my own cat gave me an expectant look.

“It’s not for you, Loki, you fat jerk,” I said. “I already fed you.”

He stalked off, looking more ornery than usual. I headed back downstairs.

The next half hour was a blur of fluffy adorableness. Both momma and her kittens purred and cuddled with me, mewed sweetly when I stroked their tiny heads and happily crunched on the food I put down for them. We bonded. I fell in love. But, like all good things, it wasn’t meant to last.

Photo credit: Twirlit.com

Photo credit: Twirlit.com

Soon, a humane society worker showed up, and it was time for them to go. As happy as I am to know that they’ll either be returned to their humans or they’ll make some other family very happy, I was sad to see them go.

“Take good care of them,” I told the worker.

“That’s what we do,” he replied.

And with that, they were gone. I gathered the dishes and the coat and made my way back to my apartment, where Loki was waiting just inside the door. When I opened it, he slunk out into the hall, as he often does. I set the food and coat down and went out to collect him. When we were safely inside, I put him on the floor and sat down on the couch.

Ignoring the food I had carelessly left out on the table, he curled up on my lap and purred softly. He gave me a look of profound love and deep understanding, and for a moment it was as if he truly understood that I had experienced a loss (small as it may have been). Then he bit my hand for no discernible reason.

“You’re the worst, Loki,” I said, as I patted his head.