I like the nightlife, I like to boogie on the disco ‘round oh yeaaaaah,” Split sang on the grass.

Wiggling to the music in her head, Split inched along the crabgrass. Warm dandelions were the best for back scratching but crabgrass was pretty awesome. She flexed her toe beans in the dying sunlight.

Part of her wanted to sleep curled like the moon in this little patch of sun. But Split knew it was too dangerous to let her guard down. After one more big yawn stretch the orange blank cat rolled off her back and onto all fours. By the long shadows she knew her gentleman would be here soon. In bread loaf battle ready position, Split took her post by the broken bike tire.

“Ma, you got any tuna up in here?” Izzy asked.

“Are you still hungry? I can wrap up another piece of lasagna.”

“No, Ma, half a pan is more than enough. I’m one person. I just need some tuna or any canned fish. Wasn’t there an old can of salmon in here from Uncle Norman?”

Ma dried her hands, pushed her youngest aside, and grabbed a tuna fish can.

“Since when do you eat fish?”

“Me I love fish, always have. The stinkier the better. You’re thinking about Zee she hates everything.”

His mother gave him a long look. Izzy gave her his best smile. Then she took out another can of tuna and a tin of sardines. She added the canned goods to his tote bag of family dinner leftovers.

“You’d better not be feeding strays, Ismael. Not at the price of groceries nowadays.”

“Who’s feeding strays?” Dad yelled the living room.

“Izzy!” Zaire yelled from dining room. “He’s fooling with animals. Again.”

“Remember when Izzy snuck that sick squirrel in the house and it ran up Grandma’s leg?” Aunt Lorraine said from somewhere.

“Grandma ran screaming out the house and took her pants off on the porch!”

“Remember the dog in closet.”

“How about the dog in the tub!”

Izzy chuckled and headed for the door. Stories of his pet rescue mishaps peppered his back. On the stoop, his mother called him back. Ma gave him a hand can opener.

“Here, boy, don’t get fleas.”

Whistling Staying Alive, Izzy headed for his train. It really wasn’t Mr. Bushytail’s fault Gran was kinda dramatic. A chill breeze was waiting for Izzy outside the train stop. Autumn had kicked the crap out summer. Izzy hustled to the alleyway. On the way to work, he’d spied the little thing a few weeks ago. Skin and bone, the cat looked pitiful. Izzy gave it half his sandwich. He wasn’t a cat person.

Eyes half asleep, ears wide awake, Split waited. A leaf rustled. Cars were rumbling by. The smell of rats tickled her tongue. Night was here and she knew she should be gone. Many steps rushed by but not his steps.

Then the music returned.

“Kitty kitty kitty here kitty.”

Squatting at the alleyway entrance, Izzy worked at the tuna can with the can opener. He spotted her in the usual spot, half hidden. Split felt an urgency sparking along her spine.

“Kitty kitty hot time in the city, how in the hell does this can contraption work?”

Hind legs revving Split sprang onto the pavement. Her gentleman had come again. She yowled hello.

“I know I’m late but I have a treat. Am I forgiven?”

Split slow blinked I missed you, I really missed you.

“I got it KitKat. Albacore in oil. I read that good for the coat.”

The cat rubbed his ankle, you feel like home.

Izzy watched the little beauty gobble away like a beast. He studied the nasty alley. I wondered if I got some of Dad’s tools I could build one of those cat shelter boxes, Izzy thought. He stroked her ears I want you safe. Shocked, Split looked up. She jumped yes into her gentleman’s bag. Whistling Disco Round, Izzy carried her home.