I have a habit, maybe more of a hobby. I feed animals. I feed the birds that come to my lawn, the cats that show up at my door, the squirrels that hyperactively dart to the bird feeders. Hell, I even put out old bread for the possum that sneaks under my fence. I feed the strays, and I always have. Not everyone thinks this is a good idea, but I always believed there’s no harm. I’m a sucker for creatures.
Sometimes I like to go out and sit on my bench after dark. The birds and squirrels have gone to wherever the birds and squirrels go to sleep. It’s peaceful, safe. I’m in a very small town, and I have an enclosed yard. Even the possum is too paranoid to bother me. Sometimes the stray cats keep me company, but I am usually all by myself. Glass of wine, snack on a plate. This is where I was almost two weeks ago, lost in thought, when it came to visit.
I first heard a scratching near the base of the big tree, then a low mewling. Thinking it was a cat, maybe hurt or scared, I called out in a quiet voice, “kitty kitty kitty.” I thought I could see a pair of eyes and maybe the shape of a head, peering from its hiding place as the scratching stopped. I called again, and it leaned a little further out.
Something seemed off, the head not shaped right, the eyes uneven. I stopped calling and sat very still. It walked, maybe limped, out a bit further. From what I could see in the low light, it was mostly hairless, splotchy patches of fur and gray skin. It was the size of a small cat or large squirrel. Its limbs were wrong, different sizes. I could see no nose, and a small misshapen head held two eyes and a mouth that wouldn’t quite close. I stood, startled, and my plate clattered to the ground under the bench. It didn’t break, but the noise seemed to scare my visitor. I went in the house quickly, locking the door.
That night as I tried to sleep I couldn’t get the thing out of my head. I reasoned that it hadn’t been threatening at all, just the odd sight had startled me. I felt terrible for scaring it away, and for reacting as I did. I was someone who said they loved all creatures, and here I was reacting to something simply because it was ugly. I resolved to see if it would come back, and to make up for my reaction.
The next night I took my spot on the bench, wine and crackers beside me. I had also set a trail of cracker pieces from the tree to roughly half the distance to the bench. I wanted to see it, but I knew better than to risk being bitten by a wild animal I couldn’t even identify. I sat out for at least an hour and was thinking of giving up and going in when I heard the strange noises from the night before.
“Come out little fella, I won’t hurt you…” I crooned in a low voice. It peeked out farther, darting as best it could to a cracker and going back behind the tree. I hadn’t been wrong about its appearance, and a terrible sadness and pity replaced my earlier revulsion. I wondered what could have happened to it. I still couldn’t tell exactly what it was.
I continued to talk nonsense in that voice we use with babies and puppies, and eventually it came back out. This time it came closer, and I sat very still. It regarded me with its misshapen eyes, wondering if it could trust me. It stopped at the last cracker and plopped onto its side, like a contented cat, still ready to bolt if it came down to that. I took in the hole of a mouth, the limbs which would seem at home on four different animals, and I again wondered at its origin. Conspiracies filled my head – lab experiment, tortured pet…
It sat up as best it could and regarded me quizzically. I stood slowly, but as soon as I moved, it lumbered back behind the tree.
This continued for four days, with the poor little thing coming closer each time, until finally on the fifth day it let me approach. I didn’t dare touch it, just sat near to it on the lawn. We sat that way for some time, until I decided I needed to get back in the house. It was late, and there was a chill in the air. I told my little friend goodnight, then got up. It sat for a moment, then it yawned. I mean, I think it yawned. Its poor ruined mouth opened until I thought its skin might split. Then it blinked its only lidded eye and limped back to the tree.
This became a daily routine, me on the bench, my small friend in the lawn. Me approaching, and the thing staying nearby. Three days ago, I got up the nerve to touch it. I reached my hand very slowly, and I could see it tense up. I stopped, then continued and to my amazement, I was able to pet it. It felt like an old toy, abandoned, losing its fur and stuffing. I that same rush of pity, and it turned its eyes to me then made a noise I haven’t heard before or since. A sort of purr, growl, meow – mixed with the low cry of a baby. I was so surprised I jumped, and the thing nipped at me, then took off in its lopsided way. Strangely, the bite didn’t hurt. I swear that after I went inside, and cleaned the very small wound, I felt a sense of euphoria. I thought it might just be my imagination.
The next night I was determined to not be afraid, but to go out and see my little friend again. It was the same as before, me on the ground, the creature sitting near. I again reached out to pet it, and this time it didn’t seem to tense. It sniffed at my bandage, then looked at me with a strange intelligence. I found myself lost in thought, so lost that I barely noticed the creature approaching me and looked down to see its small mouth around my injured finger, sucking the wound. It didn’t hurt – in fact that sense of euphoria was back. It was almost orgasmic in its intensity. I slowly drew my hand away, stunned. The blood stopped flowing almost immediately, and the creature again gave its odd yawn, and lumbered away.
Last night, I let the creature feed on me again. It really doesn’t hurt, and I don’t feel it’s too much to ask for me to give a little of myself for something so damaged, so fragile and pitiable. What kind of an animal lover would I be if I wasn’t there for that small helpless soul? Besides, it really feels quite… good. I already know I will go out there tonight and help my little friend. It keeps coming back. I don’t know what it is, but it keeps coming back, and as long as it needs me, I will keep going outside.