The Litter Box Diaries (Part 1)

The Litter Box Diaries is a heartfelt mini-memoir series following the adventures of a stray cat named Chonky, who, against all odds, found his way into a loving home. At the time of writing, Chonky's fate remains uncertain, but it is my sincerest hope that his journey continues with love, warmth, and endless treats. This candid account captures not just Chonky's resilience but the joy, humour, and gentle chaos he brought to those fortunate enough to share his story.

I felt a biting cold seep through me, leaving me disoriented and lost in this unforgiving concrete maze, far from anything I could call home. My paws ached from treading wet pavement, every step met with icky droplets that clung to my fur. I had no idea how I ended up here, weaving between looming metal boxes that screeched and roared whenever they saw me.

They called it 'the city', though it felt like an endless prison of clanging noises and sharp, unyielding smells. Every corner was packed with unfamiliar scents and strange two-legged creatures, humans, who rushed by without even a second glance. I had spent my life dodging, and surviving, but I knew I couldn't go on for very long here.

I continued prowling through the concrete jungle, quiet and light-footed, trying very hard to stay hidden and inconspicuous. I felt droplets of rain descending from the inky dark sky. I had to find shelter, at least until the morning, hopefully by then, I could find something edible.

By morning, hunger was a constant companion, gnawing at my insides. My stomach grumbled--a persistent reminder that hunting here was different. Scraps lay in odd-smelling piles, nestled in strange metal cans that were nearly impossible to reach without alerting every creature nearby. Just as I rounded another cold, grey corner, a new scent drifted my way--a blend of fumes, and something unmistakably warm.

Ahead stood a large, noisy building. I'd seen others like it before, their steel walls vibrating with clanks and whirs that rattled the bones. But there was something about this one--its steady hum was less angry, more like the gentle hum of a distant purr. A soft chill spilt out from a side door left slightly ajar, and that faint unfamiliar yet intriguing smell, dry, slightly odd, yet sharp on the nose, made my whiskers twitch.

Cautiously, I crept closer, my belly too empty to worry much about the risk. I stuck to the shadows, my ears alert for any sudden sounds until I reached the open door. Inside, I spotted a group of humans talking and shuffling thin, white stuff about.

And then, one of them noticed me.

"Hey, look at that little cat!" she said, her voice surprisingly soft for a creature so large. She crouched down, holding her hand out. I narrowed my eyes, taking a wary step back. Humans had a habit of assuming familiarity far too quickly, and I wasn't about to let myself be scooped up like some kitten.

But instead of advancing, she pulled a crumpled paper sack from her pocket and shook it. The delicious smell of something salty wafted through the air. My body betrayed me--I was rooted to the spot, and before I knew it, my paws inched forward, moving me closer and closer to her outstretched hand.

She placed a scrap on the ground and waited, her hand hovering in the air, almost as if she understood. I approached slowly, sniffing, then took the morsel. It was... GLORIOUS! Warm and rich, far better than the dry scraps I'd had to wrestle from bins or the bitter weeds that lined the streets. My tongue lapped it up greedily, and before I'd finished, another piece appeared on the ground.

A few of the other humans began to gather, watching with wide eyes and amused smiles. One of them chuckled, "Looks like we've got ourselves a cat."

They talked among themselves, debating where I could possibly come from. I ignored their babbling and focused entirely on the bounty in front of me. But as they continued to feed me little bits and pieces, I began to let my guard down, just slightly.

When I was finally full, the woman reached her hand toward me, hesitating, her eyes hopeful. I glanced at her, not sure whether to allow this breach of personal space. But her hand was warm, and somehow, I felt less like bolting. Just this once, I let her brush her fingers gently along my fur. It was... nice, I suppose.

Maybe this place wasn't so bad. A cosy building with food and humans, who, for once, didn't try to catch me. I gave my tail a satisfied twitch and found myself a corner to, finally, rest.