Sylvester

One cool Autumn day, Sylvester was outside, walking the streets of Lindsay, Ontario. If anyone were to stop and talk to Sylvester, this is what he’d say: “Hi! I’m Sylvester. I’m a little kitten. I’m black and white. I think of myself as being really cute.”

However, no-one stopped to talk to Sylvester. No-one cared about him except for his owner, Mrs. Smith, and Sylvester had his doubts about her, too.

Mrs. Smith was very old and frail. She had enough problems trying to look after herself, never mind Sylvester. Mrs. Smith only got Sylvester to keep her son, Ted, happy. Mr. Smith had recently passed away and Ted didn’t want his mother to be by herself, so it was either she get a pet or be put into a nursing home. Mrs. Smith opted for a pet.

Sylvester’s life changed for the better, the day he met Marilyn. Marilyn lived in a townhouse complex in Lindsay. She had a few cats of her own, mostly strays, like Sylvester. One night, Marilyn was feeding her cats, when she noticed an extra head around the cat dish.

“My, aren’t you cute,” said Marilyn, bending over to pick Sylvester up in her arms.

Sylvester didn’t want any part of being picked up. He ate quickly and went home to Mrs. Smith.

“I won’t try that again,” said Marilyn.

The next night, Sylvester was back. He came back to see Marilyn every single night but he would never let Marilyn pet him. Several times Marilyn tried to bring Sylvester inside, but he would have no part of it.

Sylvester puzzled Marilyn. She could never pet him. He didn’t want to go inside. However, Sylvester always came around every single night at the exact same time.

One evening, Marilyn’s friend Bob, came over for dinner. Sure enough, Sylvester showed up right on time for his dinner.

“Isn’t he a cute little kitten,” said Bob.

“Yes,” said Marilyn. “He is, but he makes me very curious.”

“Why?” asked Bob.

“Well,” said Marilyn. “Sylvester shows up here every single night, at the exact same time for his dinner. He won’t let me pet him and he won’t come into my house. I have no idea where he lives or what he does when he leaves here.”

“I see,” said Bob.

Bob went home that night to his apartment and as he was getting on the elevator, he saw Sylvester, sitting outside of Mrs. Smith’s door.

“Come on in now,” said Mrs. Smith to Sylvester. “Who Wants to be a Millionaire is over now. Gee you look like you are getting fat, yet you never eat!”

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