Around 3 am on December 28, 2005 (I only relate the time as such because for the past two and a half years, I’ve become increasingly uncertain when night time ends and daytime begins, so I don’t know if people will know what I’m talking about if I say “two nights ago”), my boss and I were in the parking lot smoking. The parking lot where I work is very big, with grass and a vast forest on the periphery. Every night, we hear coyotes baying in the distance. I have never seen the coyotes, but my coworkers tell me that they sometime venture within sight of the building.

AAAOOOOOO!!! Wait a second, this story isn’t about the fucking coyotes.

That night though, we heard a different noise. Both my boss and I speculated as to what it might be. My boss thought it sounded like a bird or a cat. I thought it was the devil disguised as a cat with a bird’s head.

“You’re right,” he said, “That’s probably it.” And we went inside.

Last night (sorry if this referent is unclear to anyone) at the same time, we heard a distinct meowing in the surrounding woods.

“That is definitely a cat,” said my boss. “I’m going to go and find it.”

“Don’t be deceived by Old Scratch!!!” I warned. “The meowing is just a ruse to lure you into the woods where he will eviscerate your soul!!!”

But he didn’t want to listen to me. And I must confess, I was curious too, so I followed him over to the edge of the woods.

“I can hear it,” I said, “It’s definitely right there in front of us.” Something shuffled around in the underbrush. “Ah! Right there!”

“Here, kitty, kitty. Tsk, tsk, tsk,” called my boss, who I will now call Chris, which is his name.

Out of the bushes bounded the cutest, most adorable kitten I have ever seen. It was obviously lost or abandoned or something with no collar and very friendly and playful. Chris stooped down and picked it up and we walked back towards the parking lot.

“I will not look at it,” I said, “Or I will want to claim it as my kitten.”

We spent the rest of our lunch break playing with the kitten. It (I call the kitten “it” because we couldn’t determine if it was male or female; Chris said he thought it takes several weeks for a cat’s junk to drop if it’s got any)won my heart when I crouched down to pet it and it climbed up my arm, perched on my shoulder, and started to purr.

“ARRR! Ya Pirate! Who needs a parrot? I think that this is your cat,” said Chris.

“I’d take it, but I don’t know if I’d be able to keep it. I don’t know how it would get along with the dog.” I thought for a moment. “It shouldn’t go to the humane society because they’ll put it to sleep. I’ll get it it’s shots, and I’ll try and find it a home myself instead of taking it to the humane society. If I can’t, I’ll keep it.”

I hung around outside with the kitten while Chris went in and got a box and some milk. We gave the kitten some milk and put him in the box and put the box in my car.

“If this kitten is male, I’m going to name him Tarzan,” I said.

“Name it Tarzan anyway,” said Chris. “If it’s female, it’ll be a ‘quirky’ name.”

Well, we went in and got back to work. Over the course of the following hour and a half, I got to thinking about the kitten. I knew I loved the kitten. I knew I wanted good things for the kitten, not the bad ones that Chris suggested may happen to the kitten if we left in in the parking lot, such as getting hit by a car or eaten by coyotes. But, what would Ruby the Psycho Doberman, who has had the run of the house for over 10 years now think? RPD is totally unpredictable, but I thought of two possible reactions to my bringing a kitten into the house: she would either have a nervous breakdown or eat it. AND, what if the kitten had some weird animal disease and gave it to RPD? AND, what the hell am I going to do with a kitten all day anyway? I’m going to need to get some sleep at some point, and what if I can’t manage a kitten with my weird sleeping schedule? What if the kitten figures out a way to burn the house down while I’m sleeping or at work? I heard about a cat once who could answer the phone…

At our 5 am break, I told Chris I’d feel better about the kitten if he took it home. I told him that I really wanted the kitten, but I’ve never had one before and he has, I didn’t know how to take care of one and I’m probably too neurotic to do it effectively anyway, and I didn’t know how the dog would react. He told me I didn’t need to apologize or explain myself so much; he kind of volunteered me to take the cat. He said he’d take it home and that he knew all kinds of people who might want it, and his wife might fall in love with it anyway, etc. I said I’d ask some people I knew if they wanted a kitten, too. I’d at least do that much to secure the cute little varmints future.

Well, by 9 am, I found the kitten a home. I’m delivering it to its new owner at 4 pm tomorrow.

Oh, Tarzan, it could have been so beautiful. And now, I shudder to speak the name that I gave you, because it makes parting with you hurt all the more.

And that’s the story of Tarzan the Kitten.