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The Shadow and the Chick
written by: Helen Dowd
THE SHADOW AND THE CHICK
My shadow fell at an eighty-five degree angle behind me as I passed the gravel pit, but I barely noticed. I was exhausted after having climbed the two mile hill from where my car had decided to go on strike. “And to think, I still have two or three more kilometers to hike before I reach home.” I sighed. My mind was already on flopping down in my lazy-boy chair, a large glass of ice water in my hand, kicking off my shoes, and closing my eyes.
Thinking about it, my eyelids drooped. As I shuffled along the gravel road, I had a creepy feeling that someone was following me. My eyes popped open; I spun my head around; I froze. After looking in every direction, but seeing no one, I continued my walking. But the feeling of being stalked increased. Again I spun my head around, slowing my pace. That’s when I saw him, his size exaggerated by my fright. He crouched, just at the tip of my shadow, when he saw me turn my head. My hand flew to my heart.
“Oh!” I said, taking a step toward the object of my fright. “You scared me half to death!” As I walked slowly toward the big grey cat he began to retreat. “Well, if that’s the way you want it, fine.” My heart still pounding, I changed direction, heading once more toward home. Every once in awhile I would turn my head to see if the cat was still following me. He was, always just within my shadow. If I stopped, he stopped. If I turned around and walked toward him, he walked away from me. If I ran a few steps, he ran a few steps. It became a game to him. I decided that his intention was to become my shadow. So, like one ignores a shadow, I ignored the cat.
It wasn’t until the following morning when I went out to do the chores that I thought any further about the cat. But there he was, hiding in the shadow of the house. How had he managed to maneuver his way around the geese, the ducks, the turkeys, the chickens, the dog, and the two about-to-be-mother cats, to even enter our yard? And how had he been allowed, by the menagerie to remain? Picking up a dish of cat food I crept toward the shadow. He tensed, slinking a few feet away. I set the food down and stood back to watch. As slowly as a shadow turns with the sun, the cat moved toward the food. Our big Malamute, Skipper, wagged his tail, as if approving my decision to let the shadow stay. I gave the big dog a pat on his head. Then and there he took it upon himself to become the cat’s personal body guard.
Two weeks after The Shadow’s arrival, Sugar and Cinnamon, on two consecutive days, presented the family with three kittens each. hen a strange thing happened. Shadow--as I decided to name the cat--for the first time since allowing us to adopt him, entered the house and began to explore. This time it was I who did the shadowing. And
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