Twin Black Cats that Disappeared

I had never before seen California during the autumn season. Ions had passed since I'd been there. Headed for San Diego to visit my old college friend Dan, I left behind a beautiful northeast autumn. Crimsons, yellows, greens, and earthy browns as seen from my plane window, gradually disappeared. I wondered if Halloween would feel authentic on the west coast.

I rendezvoused with Dan's sister, Jackie, upon arrival in San Diego. She had traveled in from Florida, and our flights coordinated perfectly. We split the fare of a taxi, and met Dan for drinks at a place called Champs.

At the end of the evening, he drove us back to his place, and for the rest of the visit, the three of us nestled in to Dan's apartment quite comfortably. Dan was the perfect host, chauffeuring us to all his favorite places.

I had never been an apartment dweller, and I was surprised that I adjusted so well to all the concrete structures in the surrounding area . Two, silky black cats that resided on the other side of the landing provided me with a would be touch of something natural. Languishing in the window, they had to be twins, and both appeared to be oblivious to the outside world.

One time on the landing, I gestured to them to see if they would be friendly. They noticed me, but they showed no fear, nor interest, nor curiosity. They simply raised their ears a bit and stared off into space, as if apathetic. They didn't lend much toward a Halloween ambiance. They were just there everyday like a fixture.
Still, they were so beautiful and healthy with their shiny, black coats that I had to cast a momentary look whenever we passed. Returning one day, after an excursion to La Jolla, we trudged our usual way to the top of the stairs. Once at the top, I noticed the absence of the cats from their window ledge. We must have been in and out a half a dozen times throughout that day, but I saw no cats. I missed them.

The next day returning from a morning of shopping, we were greeted by an undulating aroma of some kind of exotic cooking. It smelled so good, and I wondered what nationality it was. I briefly pondered about asking for the recipe, if I could find exactly where the scent was coming from.

All a sudden, I realized I had forgotten one of my shopping bags in the car. Happy for another chance to locate the source of the good cooking, I headed back downstairs. Upon completing the descent, I spotted an impeccably dressed, dark haired man walking toward the parking lot at a sturdy pace. He was carrying two, oddly shaped, plastic shopping bags, one on each, awkwardly outstretched arm.

Following behind, I couldn't help from noticing that the bags were filled to the very corners. He held them gingerly, as if something could spill out. I became transfixed on the weird oozy looking contents of the translucent plastic bags. I swore I could see the material inside of them swoosh from side to side in sync with the dark haired man's healthy gait.

He stopped at the edge of the parking lot where the trash dumpster was located. Seemingly with deliberation, he threw the bags at the top of the heap near the far edge of the fenced in dumpster.

I retrieved my forgotten things from the car, and lingered for a moment or two until the man returned to his apartment. I wanted to see if I could distinguish exactly what it was that he threw to the top of the dumpster. I only hoped the sloshy bags hadn't slid to the bottom. Unfortunately, my nosy effort was to no avail, as being only five feet in height left me at a disadvantage. Still captivated and apprehensive, I went back to the apartment .

I lightly mentioned my experience, but Jackie and Dan had become engrossed in reading the newspaper. So I let it pass. In short order, we would be on our way to San Diego zoo, where we planned to spend the afternoon. I hoped the zoo would cause me to forget about the stomach-turning incident with the mysterious plastic bags.

At the end of the afternoon, we pulled into Dan's parking space which was not too far from the dumpster. There at the top of the dumpster, numerous, huge blackbirds were pecking out viscera from the same spot where the dark haired man had tossed them earlier that day. A whole new gathering of blackbirds were arriving and perching on the fence, all in a row. They were cawing and breaking into momentary disputes as more newcomers arrived.

I didn't need any more proof after that scenario. I knew then that the poor cats had become nothing more than part of the food chain. Between the missing cats, the blackbirds and my imagination, it was more of a Halloween than I could have ever expected. Though I like California, I really much prefer changing landscapes, and Halloweens with trick or treats in the moonlight.