**The Business Trip**
Mid-autumn had arrived, and the weather was far from pleasant. There was no sign of an Indian summernature clearly had other plans. The leaves turned yellow and curled up at the edges, while a persistent drizzle fell all day without pause. A biting wind urged everyone indoors, and with the temperature barely hitting 6°C, it was unseasonably cold for late September.
By fates design, I found myself on a business trip to a small, quiet town. I was lodged in an old two-story house converted into a guesthouseonce home to young professionals and their families, now standing nearly empty. My room was on the ground floor, and I rather liked it. Just outside my window stood a tall, sturdy maple, its branches swaying gently. Whenever I cracked the window open for a smoke, I couldnt help but admire its quiet strength.
Most of my days were spent working, but evenings brought peacea rare luxury in the bustling city I called home. One night, as I sat reading, I felt the distinct sensation of being watched. Someoneor somethingwas studying me intently from beyond the glass. I scanned the darkness but saw nothing. Yet the feeling lingered. Was it an animal? A person? I had no answers.
A few nights later, exhausted and hungry, I cobbled together a simple supper of cold cuts, tinned fish, and bread. Almost instinctively, I opened the window. In a flash, a large grey tomcat with amber eyes leapt onto the sill. A magnificent creatureno doubt hed been the one observing me from the maples branches.
“Come in then,” I said. “Youre welcome here. Hungry? Help yourself.”
After days of scrutiny, the cat seemed to have sized me up. With dignified caution, he approached the table. I set out a plate with slices of ham and fish, adding a small piece of bread just in case. (Did cats even eat bread? I wasnt sure, but ham and fish were safe bets.) He ate slowly, regally, and for some reason, his presence lifted my spirits. Loneliness, perhaps.
When he finished, a single slice of ham remained. His gaze flicked between it and me, so intense that I laughed. “Go on, take it.” With a flick of his tail, he snatched the meat and vanished into the night, swift as an acrobat.
I was disappointed. Id hoped to talk to him longer.
The next evening, I returned with more foodextra ham and a portion of roast chicken from the canteen, just in case. This time, the cat didnt wait for an invitation. He rapped his paw against the glass, demanding entry. We dined together, and for once, he seemed in no hurry to leave. I found myself telling him about my life, my work. He listened intently, those golden eyes peering straight into my soul.
An hour later, he requested a piece of chicken with a soft meow and disappeared again.
By now, I was smitten. Where did he live? Who owned him? More than anything, I dreamed of taking him home with mea loyal companion to share my quiet moments.
The days passed, and our nightly ritual continued. His expressive eyes answered my unspoken questions, offering sympathy when my stories grew heavy. But as my trip neared its end, anxiety set in. How could I explain that I was leavingand that I wanted him to come with me?
On my last day, I wandered the town, dreading the empty hours before evening. I browsed shop windows, bought snacks for the journey, and even picked up a large carry bagjust in case. By chance, I ended up near a row of derelict garages.
Thena piercing yowl. The sound of snarling dogs. I sprinted toward the noise and froze at the sight: a small grey-and-white queen shielding two kittens while three massive dogs circled them. And there, in the thick of it, was *my* catthe grey tomclawing at the lead dogs muzzle, blood spraying as he fought like a whirlwind.
I swung my bags wildly, but the tom needed little help. The dogs fled, tails between their legs.
Gently, I scooped up the kittens and their mother, tucking them into the carry bag. “Right then, lets get you home.”
The grey tom limped after us. Back at the guesthouse, I checked them over. The queen and kittens were unharmed, but the tom had a wounded paw and a gash near his ear. No mattertomorrow, wed see a vet.
Funny how things work out. Id hoped for one cat. Now I was taking home an entire family.
Happiness filled me. For the first time in ages, I had someonewell, some*ones*to care for. And who knows? Maybe one day, thered be more.
As we journeyed back to the city, I couldnt help but smile. Happiness begets happiness, after all.
Thats what I believe. What about you?
