Music and Cats

I’ve been an architect for almost 20 years, and I thought that today’s site visit to an existing building would hold no surprises. I was wrong.

This afternoon, while on a tour of a high-rise senior housing development with several public health and hospital officials, three of us stopped in the middle of a hallway to talk about the lighting. While looking up at the existing light fixtures, we heard a sound that didn’t belong — the sound of a kitten mewing, on the other side of the nearest apartment door.

The residents of this building aren’t supposed to have pets. L, the apartment manager, knocked several times on the apartment door. The kitten mewed more loudly. L knocked a few more times, called out “Management coming in,” and unlocked the door. As he cracked the door, a tiny fluffy face appeared at his feet, mewing excitedly. J peered into the dark apartment, then pulled the door closed. The mewing continued, then increased, as a second little voice joined the first.

L asked to borrow a cell phone, dialed a number, and spoke to the person who answered:” I’m at Thomas Terrace. I have a tenant who is down or expired in their unit. They’re not moving.” He listened, frowning, then said, “OK, I’ll check,” and hung up the phone. He opened the apartment door again, trying to contain the kittens with his foot. I said, “Don’t worry, we’ll catch them.” L stepped over the kittens, who bounded into the hallway.

I scooped up a tiny, long-haired black, gray and white tabby; H grabbed an almost identical kitten. My kitten was scared, trembling a bit as I nestled him into the crook of my elbow. I stroked his soft, tufted ears; he relaxed against my arm. H held the other kitten out at arm’s length, and admitted sheepishly that she’s allergic. At that point, the other three people on the tour came to see what had happened to us; we told them that L was checking on a tenant. H handed the second kitten over to my boss J.

When L came back out of the apartment, he made another phone call. “The tenant is dead, probably for a couple of days,” he said into the phone. I felt sad for the loss of a human life, but more immediately concerned for the two small creatures who had most likely been without food or water since the tenant’s death.

L herded his tour guests and two new charges back to the management office. The second kitten was drowsing on J’s arm; my kitten was trying to climb my shoulder. I had the adventurer. I set him on a desk, holding him just enough to keep him from jumping. His little body rumbled under my hands. L found one of the resident staff, P, a tall, broad-chested man who smiled when he saw the kittens. P would take care of the babies until they could figure out what to do with them. Both kittens fit into one of his large hands. Reunited, they snuggled together. I’m sure they were thirsty and hungry, but they seemed comforted, both by each other’s presence, and by the large man who held them.

To open the Advent calendar window for Day 3, click here:

The two kittens we rescued this afternoon were long-haired tabbies, like Sasha, but entirely black and white, like Sergei. This is a pic of our McKitten boys at about the same age, taken six years ago in the foster home where they lived before we brought them home. I hope the two kittens from Thomas Terrace are in a good place tonight, with plenty of water and food, and a warm place to curl up together.

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