Eliza and the Open Door
The night was dark and fearsome… A heaviness weighed upon her heart. Why had this happened to her? Eliza sat quietly beneath the shadow of an old oak tree in the garden. The biting wind cut through her fur, turning her tears to frost in the autumn chill. She tucked her frozen paws beneath her and remembered…
How lovely it had been, curled against her mothers warm side, nestled among her brothers and sisters. Her mother would wash them one by one, humming a soft lullaby. It was safe, comforting… Then her paws grew strong, and she began escaping that warm cocoon to explore the bright flat.
One by one, her siblings were taken away, until at last it was Elizas turn. A man and a woman cooed at her, cuddling and even kissing herbut she didnt care. She wanted to run! They brought her to a new home, and run she did, darting through every room, every hidden corner.
Everyone delighted in the little kitten, and she had so many toys nowmice, balls, feather wands. The best of all was chasing the red dot from the laser pointer, though it always slipped away.
But Eliza grew into a dignified lady, no longer interested in gamesexcept when she heard the jingle of the laser pointers chain. Then shed bolt after that elusive red dot. In the evenings, she sat in the kitchen, “helping” her mistress cook. In the mornings, she saw her master off to work. Eliza was happy!
Then it all ended… Her owners packed their bags. Eliza leapt over the suitcases, thrilled by the new gamebut they avoided her gaze, their faces grim. Soon, a stern woman with thin, perpetually pursed lips arrived.
From their conversations, Eliza gathered this was the masters sister, meant to look after the flatand herwhile they were away. The cat lingered by the door, listening for familiar footsteps. They never came.
The flat grew colder, lonelier. Eliza was often forgotten at mealtimes, too timid to beg. Shed sit by her empty bowl and wait until the woman, nearly tripping over her, grudgingly dumped dry food into a grimy dish.
Now she was forbidden from the sofa (“covered in fur!”) or the windowsill (“the flowers!”). Eliza spent her days curled on the doormat, gritty with dirt. She missed warm hands; the woman recoiled from touching her. Though Eliza groomed herself diligently, keeping her coat flawless, it didnt matter.
One day, the woman shrieked at finding fur on her suede boots, waving a tea towel like a weapon. Eliza flattened herself against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. No one had ever shouted at her like that. And still, her owners did not return…
Then she saw the doorleft ajar. Without a glance back, she darted down the stairs and into the night.
Now she was alone in the cold, exposed. Nowhere to hide, and somewhere nearby, a pack of strays prowled. For a moment, she regretted leavingbut she couldnt bear that flat, that woman with her pinched lips. Perhaps the door hadnt been left open by accident…
Meanwhile, the woman stuffed Elizas toys into a bin bag, swept up the last of her food, and tossed the bowls in after.
A dogs bark startled Eliza. Hunched low, she crept onward, directionless. She didnt know where she was goingonly that shed never be happy again.
For days, she wandered. Hunger gnawed at her, though she refused scraps offered by kind souls. Thirst forced her to drink from puddles, fouling her stomach. Her once-glossy fur dulled; her ribs jutted sharply.
Workers at a bakery took pity, but when they tried to catch her, she fled. Exhausted, her paws led her home. The buildings door stood open…
She hesitated, then crept inside. The climb to the second floor took an age. At lasther door, shut tight. She didnt know why shed returned. Perhaps to say goodbye…
Behind the door, voices raged. Her owners had come back to find her missing.
“Gone, you say?” The mistresss voice cracked. “Then where are her things?”
“You ought to thank me for minding your flatand your flea-ridden cat!”
From the flat opposite, a neighbour gasped. “Eliza! Oh, you poor mitewait, Ill let you in.”
The door flew open. The sour-faced woman stormed out. “Ill never set foot here again!”
Thenher mistress appeared. With a strangled cry, Eliza flung herself at her, climbing her trousers in desperation.
“Youre home…” her mistress whispered, tears brimming.
Eliza rubbed against her, shedding fur over clean clothes. That night, curled between her beloved owners, she realised shed been wrong.
She was happy again.
