By Mushroom Montoya
Driving and bouncing,
Front wheels bumping
Up and down over a grumpy
Pair of railroad tracks,
A scream jolts my hands,
Compressing the steering wheel,
Turning it to the right,
Pushing my foot on the brake.
I slow the van to a stop.
My heart is racing
And chasing the screamer
Hidden under the hood.
I wish I could
See it
Before I lift
The heavy steel engine cover.
I’m afraid I’ll discover
Cat gut splatter
All over
The engine.
My fingers squeeze the latch.
My eyes turn not wanting to catch
The bloody gore of a shredded cat
As I lift the van’s engine hood.
What is this?
A wide yellow eyed,
Terrified,
White cat
Lying on
The radiator cover
With its left and right front claws
Still gripping on.
Dare I extend my hand
And lift this cat out?
Will it scream and shout
And bite me?
I slide one hand under its belly,
The other slowly over its back.
My voice slow and gentle
“Come on cat,
I won’t hurt you.”
As I lift his resistant body up
His left paw cautiously
Comes unhinged
And then his right.
I hold him close to my heart
Letting its beats
Tell him
I mean no harm.
His muscles relax,
Going limp
As I put him into the passenger seat
Before closing the engine’s lid.
“Thank you,” he says
When I climb into the van.
“You saved my life!
I now lay claim
On you and yours
For as long as I love
And live.”
