Shadow Of A Cat

Shadow Of A Cat
I noticed the stain on the cement in front of my new apartment right after I moved in. Shaped like the head of a cat, it had two pin-prick white spots where the eyes should be and two slightly dark smudges that suggested a nose and a mouth. It was embedded in the cement like a shadow.
I thought the stain had been created by water, but when the first rain didn’t wash it away, I figured it must have been from something else.
Shrugging, I put the stain out of my mind and settled into my new digs. Then one night, I heard the meowing of a cat somewhere outside. Opening the front door, I saw and heard nothing. So, I went back to watching TV. The meowing started again.
Once more, I opened the front door and that’s when the meowing stopped. What the heck was going on? I thought the cat, wherever it was, must be hungry or hurt, but was too scared to come out of hiding.
“Here kitty, kitty,” I called. Nothing happened.
Well, there wasn’t much I could do, so, I went back inside. The meowing didn’t start again until two nights later. Once again, I found no cat.
That started me thinking. I had grown up in New Orleans where ghost stories were as plentiful as beads during Mardi Gras. So, I asked a neighbor, “Did a cat ever die near here?”
She confirmed the body of a cat had been found near the front of my apartment, which was why, the next time I heard meowing, I placed a bowl of milk on the stoop outside my front door. In the morning, I found it empty. I did the same every night. Most of the times, I also included a plate of cat food.
Then one morning as I collected the empty bowl and plate, I felt something warm and furry brush against my leg. Looking down, I saw only empty space, but said, “You’re welcome, Spirit.” That’s what I called him. It just felt like a he.