The Hooker of Jefferson Street

Many years ago, before my best friend D. and I met, he was living in an apartment on Jefferson street. He was attending University and had a full class load and a couple of jobs, so he was fairly busy and usually on the go. Heading out the door on his way to his first class of the day, he heard a little meow and looked down to find a little orange ball of fluff doing figure-8's around his feet. It was a kitten, maybe a year old, with large paws, a large head, and a skinny little body. He looked like he had probably been on his own for a while. Not wanting to be late for class, my friend extricated himself from the aggressive affections of the little creature and went about his business.

Several hours later, when he returned home from his day, he was surprised to find that the kitten had stuck around. They picked up right where they had left off that morning, with the cat "hooking shamelessly" for attention around his legs. It was getting close to winter, and the weather was starting to get colder, particularly at night, but my friend already had two cats and couldn't take on another one at this point. However, he was worried about the kitten's chances out there on the streets. It just so happened, though, that D. had another dear friend, S., who had just adopted a singular kitten that could probably use a buddy, and despite any presentations this person may have given to the general public, my friend knew he had a squishy warm empathetic center and wouldn't deny the little bugger a safe and secure home, given he plucked the right heartstrings.

When S. came to get the cat, they took him to the vet, and they discovered that the poor little guy had worms. His was a pretty extreme case, where the worms had actually started to burrow into his brain, which probably explained why his body hadn't fully grown to the potential of his feet and head. They got him treatment for the worms and he was quarantined in the bedroom for a while, kept separate from his new kitty friend, Muse, until they could be sure he was going to be ok and didn't pose a danger to the other cat. The two would "talk" to each other under the door, like prisoners in adjoining cells, or Elsa & Anna in the beginning Disney's Frozen, and thus began forging a bond that would last for over a decade. They named him Jeffery, because he was found on Jefferson Street. He and Muse were inseparable, and much more like a married couple than brothers. One of the more romantic love stories I've ever witnessed, really. They still took turns chasing each other around the house like amorous teenagers years later, and they didn't care who saw. Initiated more than one "birds and the bees" conversation with visiting relatives' children.

Many years later, D. and S. eventually ended up as roommates, and all four cats became a furry little family of sorts, to the point where when it came time for the roommates to part ways, the kitties all stayed with D., and when I became his roommate they became my step-cats. Of the four of them, Jeffery is the last man standing. He's sixteen years old now, and he just finally grew into his head and paws (mostly because he's become a bit of a fat old man). He's bossy and opinionated, and loves to have his nose scratched, so much so that his little mouth will gape open and you swear he's about to start drooling any second, but never actually takes it that far, thank goodness. Occasionally (particularly when he hears a can opener) he will reprise his role as hooker, weaving between your legs for love and food (or maybe just trying to trip you), but for the most part he's content with what he has and has turned off the red light.