I Got A Grade For This

Chapter One

Maggie Thatcher
1/12/17
P4
Topic #12

Wounded, Hungry, and Determined to Stay

I walked down the street, making my way home. It was a busy day at work, and I was ready to get home and relax. I walked past an allyway, and I heard a strangled-sounding meow come from it. Getting curious, I walked down the alleyway, seeing a box at the end of it. I peeked inside, gasping in horror at what I saw. I saw a brown and white Scottish Fold inside the box, with several bleeding cuts. He was so thin that I could see his ribs. He looked moments away from collapsing where he stood, and his fur was matted down with blood, dirt, and God knows what else.
I knew I wouldn't be able to leave him here, so I gently reached in the box and lifted him out of it. He made little effort to struggle, be it from exhaustion or he'd just given up. I returned to my path home, holding him in my arms. My thoughts wandered to who could have left him out here all on his own. I noticed a little collar around his neck, and carefully unclipped it. There was a small golden tag bearing the name Arthur. I flipped it over, but there was no contact info on it. I decided that I'd put up some posters looking for him later.
I reached my house, a small blue one in a fairly small neighborhood. I unlocked the door, going inside and taking off my boots. I decided to clean Arthur's fur and wounds, and then get him something to eat. I ran some warm water into the sink, gently setting him in. I grabbed a washcloth and dipped it in the water, using it to wash all the filth and blood from his fur. He didn't put up much of a fight, even when I began cleaning the painful-looking cuts along his sides and back. I hoped that they weren't infected, but thankfully it didnt look like they were. I dried him off, setting him on the floor next to the heater and opening up a can of tuna, dumping its contents into a bowl. I set it beside him, and he began eating almost as soon as I set it on the ground.
Poor thing. Who would be cruel enough to leave him out there like that? I thought, going to get bandages from the first-aid kit in the bathroom. He had to have an owner, because who else could have put that collar on him? I returned to the kitchen, seeing the bowl completely licked clean and Arthur falling asleep on his feet. I sat down beside him, ripping a strip of bandages from the roll. I sprayed them with the antibacterial spray I had grabbed, gingerly wrapping them around his wounds. When I had finished, I could see that he was struggling to stay awake.
I smiled, lifting him up and taking him to my room. As I walked, I felt a weak rumbling coming from his chest. It sounded rough and scratchy, as if he hadn't felt happy in months. I set him on my bed, going into the bathroom to change into my pajamas and brushing my teeth. When I returned, Arthur had curled up on my pillow with what I guessed was the feline equivalent of a smile. I couldn't help but smile back, getting under covers and turning out the lights. Arthur woke, repositioning to where he was curled up in the crook of my neck, purring happily. I gently kissed his forehead, closing my eyes. "Goodnight, Arthur." I whispered, hearing a quiet snoring coming from him. It never occurred to me, but it might be a little hard returning him to his owner.

The story will continue in my next essay...