Trick or Treat

I've delighted in seeing the costumed fairies, dragons, superheroes and ponies come to my door, but not since I lived in North Carolina have I been in a neighborhood where kids' parents knew me. Last night I had a few tricker-treaters. I expected some, but didn’t buy any candy for the little munkins. Call me scrooge, but don’t we live in an age where kids are not suppose to collect treats from strangers?

My first tricker-treater was a total surprise. It was a white cat. She came to the door and meowed.

“Well, well, well. What are you doing here?” I asked her. She sat down in front of the screened door.

The cat hangs out on the rock wall between two other buildings across the way. I figured she belongs to someone even though animals are not suppose to run free. No dogs are allowed in the complex.

I usual ask her what she has been doing to which she never answers. I guess it is none of my business. A few weeks ago, she was sitting underneath cousin David’s truck. I stopped to greet her, sticking my index finger out from my close fist. Cats greet each other nose to nose and this will bring a house cat closer. She almost acknowledged me. Honestly, I don’t remember seeing her since, but I thought of her when I found the dead cat near the complex’s entrance.

"You smell my salmon?" She blinked. "Out tricker-treating?"

I retrieved the empty can still sitting on the counter (try that at home with Phoenix and Diablo) and opened the screen door. I expected her to take off, but she merely moved allowing me to place the can on the walkway.

As the parade of little kids and moms came to my door I forgot all about the cat until I cleaned up the kitchen. I went to get the can and the damn cat had not eaten a thing. Phoenix and Diablo would have had the inside of the can so clean an ant would not have bothered with it.

The cat was gone. Was that a trick or a treat?