Epitaph
At first, he was just a dark streak across the porch, like the shadow of a crow. Scrawny, frightened little creature hiding under tables and behind flower pots. We watched for several days. Left bits of food and a small dish of water. Then, he would watch us from afar, darting away if we got too close. I talked to him in a coaxing, baby voice.
Finally, he would come when he heard the food bowl being set down, eating furtively, watching our every move.
He was as black as the night sky during a new moon. When he began to get his strength, his tail would wave menacingly as we all tried to gain his friendship. He was distrustful, but the old hotel had a way with cats. They were drawn to it and it’s restless ghosts of bygone eras. The tiny kitten finally accepted us employees of the ancient inn as friends and his name became Salem.
Some said he was the reincarnation of another cat that had lived there. Indeed, they had similar personalities and preferences. He instinctively knew his way around, and was soon allowed inside. Eventually, he grew into a roaming, fighting feline, exploring the neighborhood by moonlight and sleeping by day. He was fast and determined. He sang love songs under the stars. We treated his battle wounds and ran to let him in when he would call. His was a life of wild romance and daring hunts.
Then, he was taken to the veterinarian for shots and ‘necessary procedures’. After that, he stayed home more and ate more. He would greet the hotel guests as they entered and became very popular. Guests would secretly slip him shrimp and other treats he was not allowed to have. Folks would ask for him by name when they checked in. He became the darling of the hotel, the king of the inn. He was plump and loving and would purr appreciatively when petted.
Then one day, he disappeared. We all pitched in and searched the whole town. Everyone around was notified of his absence. We began to fear the worst. Days went by with sad faces and heavy hearts. His little bed in the basket was emptier than ever. Then, someone spotted him at the animal shelter. Salem was found! He was turned in by a tourist who mistook him for a female stray about to have kittens. Our fat boy came home. He got a microchip for a homecoming present!
Our sweet cat finally crossed the rainbow bridge after a short, but fatal illness. The lobby looks strangely empty. I still listen for his insistent cat voice calling me to let him in or out.Then sometimes, I see just a quick flash of a dark form rounding a corner or running up the stairs and I know it is him. Salem will not only be forever in our hearts and dreams, but also in the shadows of the old hotel.
