We had originally planned to go down to the office Thursday night to watch the River Market fireworks from the deck. But there were lots of things going on down there over the holiday weekend--concerts and such--and we were concerned about finding a place to park within walking distance. And it's hot, and it's a long drive, and it didn't sound like anyone else was going down anyway, so we skipped it.

There are fireworks at the office park a couple of blocks away from us, but since we're kind of down in a valley, it's hard to see. Bob was upstairs in the office on the phone when it started to get dark, and he called down to me to come up and watch out the window.

I could sort of see, but it didn't seem the same watching through a window, so I ran downstairs and out the front door. I stood on the sidewalk on my tiptoes and by straining upward could sort of see the fireworks, although mostly just the tops.

They were pretty, though, and if I'd been standing in the crowd, I would have been ooh-ing and ahh-ing with the best of them. As I stood there, I thought I heard a cat cry. I sort of looked around, but figured it was just my imagination, or one of those fireworks that make that kind of cat-like sound.

But then, I heard it again. "Mao." Again, I sort of looked around, but didn't see anything. And then, "MAO," and a little silver tabby cat launched himself at me, running along the sidewalk and practically leaping into my arms as I bent down. "What in the world?" I thought, and I gathered him up and carried him back up the sidewalk to the porch.

He was obviously disconcerted by the fireworks, and looking for comfort, so I gave it to him. I sat down on the steps and he curled up in my lap, his head under my arm, both trembling at each loud concussion, and purring as I stroked him.

I was thrilled, of course--it's always wonderful when animals spend time with you by choice, but especially cats, since they tend to be so skittish and self-reliant as a rule. This one was exceptionally friendly, and after awhile I realized this was the cat I'd seen walking down the sidewalk the other day, and now I wonder whether the guy walking "with" him might not have been just a random guy, with the cat trying to make a new friend.

After awhile he got bolder, and got down off my lap to explore the porch, then lying on his side, rolling around and making little kneading motions with his (clawless) front paws. He looked like he was probably about a year old--young, but not really a kitten. And I call him "he," but I didn't actually look--he just looked like a male to me, his face had a more masculine shape.

Bob came out after about a half hour or so, wondering where I'd got to, and the cat warmed up to him, too, climbing up in his lap and rolling around. We talked about what we'd do if he was still hanging around the next morning--Bob wouldn't turn him away, of course, but I don't think our two would have been too happy to have another addition to the family--but we haven't seen him since, so I assume he went home, wherever home might be. The fact that he didn't have any front claws was, as Bob pointed out, a good clue that he belonged to someone.

Of course, that doesn't mean that he wasn't a long way from home, or that he hadn't been abandoned, but he didn't look scrawny or dirty, just like a cat that might have slipped out the door a few hours ago, or who might have refused to come when called for, not realizing that there were going to be loud noises in the night.

I hope we see him again. I enjoyed his visit.