Blackie’s Best Halloween

By Judith Ayn

The black cat stretched his long body on a wide windowsill. His fur and bones warmed in the autumn sunshine streaming into the room. Just as he was nodding off, an irritating sound disturbed his peace. He rose and readjusted himself, yellow-green eyes focused on the man speaking to his human.

“I’m not comfortable having that cat in this house.” Budsen plunked two ice-cold bottles of beer on the kitchen’s granite-topped island. He removed the caps and slid one of the bottles to Cynthia. “If looks could kill, I’d obviously be dead.”

Cynthia sighed. “Budsen,” she handed him a plate with several slices of pepperoni pizza in exchange for the beer. “It’s Blackie’s house, too. He’s only a cat. You need to calm down.”

“It’ll be our house when you agree to marry me. What are you waiting for, anyway? We’ve been together a year.”

Before she could respond, the cat jumped down from his perch, startling Budsen, who choked on a mouthful of beer.

“He does that on purpose! And I’ve seen him at night sleeping on your pillow near your head. He opens one eye, blinks and growls if I try to put a hand on you. Cyn, he HAS to go.”

Cynthia reached her arms overhead to unkink her back. “He’s a rescue nobody wanted. He’s my cat and he’s staying here, end of story. Let’s go to the park and do the easy hike. You need to keep moving that bad knee.”

“Have you forgotten I got the bad knee when he tripped me in the garage?” Budsen’s whine level reached two, on a scale of one-to-three.

Cynthia headed out of the kitchen, followed by the feline. “I think you tripped on the rake we left there after cleaning up the pile of leaves.”

Budsen limped behind in an effort to catch up. “Cyn, we really have to do something about this.”

She stopped, turned, and faced him. “Maybe you should go home, and we’ll call it a weekend. You can get some rest and work on your rehab.”

“Call it a weekend?” Budsen’s loud voice triggered the cat, who began to hiss and spit. “It’s six o-clock on a Friday night. You can’t be serious.”

Cynthia handed him his travel bag and coat. “Tomorrow’s Halloween and I’ll be giving out candy. Sunday, I need to clean this place. We can have breakfast on Monday, before work.” She kissed his cheek and led him to the door. “Bye, Budsen.”

The door clicked shut with the man on the other side. “I’m gonna kill that cat,” he muttered under his breath. “And soon.”

***

Halloween Eve served as a great excuse for parents to drive their children for trick-or-treating to the dead-end road in the nicer part of the small town. It was well-known for the best decorations and most generous hauls of candy. Cynthia’s house always stood out with a front yard turned into a spooky cemetery, draped with spider webs. She added special lights, smoke, and robotic mummies and skeletons to complete the scene.

Every year, dispensing sweets to costumed kids took more and more time. Cynthia and a couple of friends spent four hours enjoying the night and the visitors. Finally, she bid goodbye to the last trick-or-treater,  went into the house and turned off the outside lights. She leaned against the wooden door and yawned. Another fun and successful Halloween, her favorite holiday.

In the living room, Blackie slid into Cynthia’s lap and purred as he was stroked by his owner’s free hand. In the other, she held a mug of warmed apple cider. “Has anyone told you lately how beautiful you are?” she asked. His purring intensified.

Close to midnight, cat and mistress climbed the stairs and settled into bed. An hour later, Cynthia was awakened by the sound of loud knocking on the front door. She moved the cat from her legs, wrapped herself in a large robe, and went downstairs to check out the noise.

“Budsen! You’re drunk! Get in here and stop pounding on the door. You’ll wake up the neighbors!”

He staggered into the hallway, and she helped him out of his coat. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend,” he said, words slurred. “You don’t even want to spend the holiday with me.”

Cynthia sighed and helped him upstairs and into bed. He fell asleep instantly.

***

In the morning, Budsen’s side of the bed was empty. Cynthia called his name as she pulled on her workout clothes. No response. She turned on a hall light and descended the stairs. At the bottom, Budsen lay curled into a ball, barely breathing.

She dialed 911 and told Budsen help was coming. He groaned.

Blackie wrapped himself around Cynthia’s legs while she sat near her boyfriend. The cat licked her cheek when she cried and begged for the ambulance to hurry. Help finally arrived along with a lot of people, bright lights, and noise.

Finally, everyone left. Alone again in the house, Blackie sniffed, then settled down in the area Budsen was found.

He opened his eyes, blinked, and closed them again.

Best Halloween ever.

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