DISCOVERED
The next morning Trevor yawned and rubbed his eyes as he sat down to breakfast. His mother had her back to him as she stood at the sink rinsing a dish.
The cover of Sky Wonders Magazine stared at him across the table. His father was behind it, but all he could see was the top of his head. Between the fingers that held the magazine he read “Lunar Eclipses in the 20th Century.”
He reached for the cereal box.
“Trevor,” his mother said.
The tone of her voice made him set down the box. He looked up to see her holding a dripping bowl and he winced.
“I found this on the porch,” she said. “Would you happen to know how it got there?”
Suddenly he was wide-awake, but no suitable answer came to mind. “I had some milk last night.”
“You did – or two little kittens did?”
“Are they still there?” He rushed to the living room and knelt on the sofa. Pulling back the curtains he looked outside.
He heard her footsteps behind him. “All I saw were two little tails as they disappeared into the bush,” she said.
Trevor scanned the tangled branches that pressed up against the porch. Then he spotted the glint of shinning eyes. “Can I feed them?”
Her mouth tightened. “Now Trevor,” she began.
He interrupted. “They’re all alone and cold, and hungry, and scared. Please Mom?”
She studied him for a moment and her shoulders drooped. “Just this once. But not with this bowl.”
He followed her into the kitchen. She took a chipped bowl from under the sink, filled it with milk and placed it in the microwave. As it hummed she knelt down. Her fingers were warm as she grasped his shoulders and looked him in the eye.
“Your father is allergic to cats. We can’t keep them. The mother must be somewhere about.”
His dad put down his magazine. He shrugged and gave Trevor that crooked conspiratorial smile.
“They could stay on the porch,” Trevor said. “I would feed them and take care of them.”
“What do you think, Lil?” his dad said. “They shouldn’t be any problem if they stay on the porch.”
His mother looked shocked. “What would the neighbors think if we kept wild, feral cats on the porch?”
“They aren’t wild, Mom. Brownie practically knows me already.”
His dad raised his eyebrows and his mom sighed.
“Maybe you shouldn’t name them, Trevor. It will only make it harder,” his mom said. “We’ll call around and see if one of the shelters will take them.”
Trevor took the bowl out to the porch. He could see little eyes looking out of the bush.
“Come on Brownie,” he said softly. “Warm milk.” He sat on the steps a few feet away and waited. After several minutes his muscles started to cramp from holding still. Just as he was beginning to think he should go inside, there was movement in the bush. One little foot timidly poked out. Then a nose. Trevor waited.
Brownie crept across the porch up to the bowl and began lapping up the milk. Bob soon joined him. As soon as the last drop was licked up, they both bolted back to the safety of the bush.
Trevor picked up the bowl and saw his parents watching from the window.
A Sprinkling of Thought Dust Page 6