I remember the day I found him.
Or did he find me?
Let’s see …
Max had died in April.
Heart attack at midnight on Easter Sunday.
Went out in style and with effect … just as he had lived.
Kolonaki. Tecamachalco. San Angel.
The Upper East Side. Soho. Plaka.
And finally at rest in Ekali.
Not a bad routine for a fox terrier.
My friends had asked me then … “will you get another dog?”
“No … but one might get me …”
It must have been like the middle of September 2002.
9:15am. I left my house that morning as I did on any other.
Agape, smiling a huge smile, opening the garage door.
Me reversing the car out into the narrow alleys of Plaka.
Same as any other day.
Then it happened.
Never happened before.
Never happened again.
I glanced in the rearview mirror (lucky Agape) and saw her squashed under the collapsed garage door.
Stopped the car.
Dusted her off.
Smile returned …
And then I heard him….
I thought it was a little kitten.
I looked around the car, under the car, everywhere.
I walked back to the car.
I stayed out of the car.
Listening to the silence.
Focussing so that I might understand where the next cry might come from.
Saw a huge stray tabby.
Just as focused as I was.
Close to the storm water drain opposite my house.
Lifted the cover and saw a three inch fluff of life.
Deformed left paw.
Me. The cat. And this fluff of life.
I lifted him out of the drain and put him in the palm of my hand.
He fitted comfortably.
Walked back to a traumatised but recovering Agape
…. “Agape, this is our new dog.”
I got back into the car.
Left the windows open and drove to the office, a huge smile on my face.
Plook was in my life.
Eyes closed. Five days old. Breathing.
I don’t know what the cat had for breakfast.
But it rained a little later that day and the storm water drain was flooded.