Jerry and Henry

 

Jerry couldn’t remember a time without Henry. His earliest memories, as far back as his mind allowed him to dive, were of that gray tabby cat with the chunk missing from its left ear. Right there beside him.

His side was Henry’s favorite spot to be.

And Jerry wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mostly because Jerry had nobody else. Throughout the many streets he walked, the back-alleys taken, the restroom stalls slept in and soft patches of grass underneath the overpass laid on, Jerry had not a single soul to share his day with.

So he shared them with Henry, who was always interested to hear what he’d been up to. Even if Henry had been with him the entire time.

That’s just how Henry was, and Jerry loved Henry for it.

That love was expressed through many different outlets: hugs, kisses, bigger food rations even if it meant Jerry ate nothing. Jerry showed his affection for Henry every way he could except the one way he wanted.

Vocally.

Mostly because Jerry could not speak.

For whatever reason Jerry didn’t understand, he couldn’t speak like others could. He would open his mouth and nothing would come out, not a squeak when he was surprised, not a scream when he was in pain, not a single word.

Henry didn’t mind. In fact, Henry didn’t care. He knew Jerry loved him and that’s all that mattered. Because, thankfully, love was not limited to what you could utter. Henry could gather as much by the way Jerry was often treated around this town. They had no love for him. They had no hate either, which was great, but they weren’t so keen on helping a scruffy looking orphan and his scruffier looking cat.

And Henry didn’t mind. Jerry had him and he had Jerry.

That wasn’t how it always was, as far back as Henry could recall anyway. While he had always been a stray, wandering here and there, he remembered a time when Jerry could talk.

Until it happened.

When it happened, Henry remembered finding Jerry face down on the sidewalk, unconscious and bleeding.

Unfortunately, talking was a function beyond Henry on less of a traumatic level and more a biological one. He was not built to express words, so he took care of Jerry, and Jerry loved him for it.

Six months had passed since that awful time and Jerry was no closer to speaking than he was to remembering what happened to him.

As Jerry smoothed out their usual patch of frayed grass underneath the usual overpass, happily humming to himself, Henry was preoccupied with the sky, his tail swaying back and forth robotically.

He had read in the papers today that a special comet would be passing the town tonight, directly overhead and in clear view. They were already calling it a “wishing comet” and riddling it with all sorts of rumors. For the most part, those rumors were silly… but there was one that caught Henry’s ear while he was stealing two packs of fish that would be dinner.

Apparently, only the purest of wishes would be granted, wishes spoken with true intentions and a just will.

Well, as Henry sat there, motionless as a statue, a silhouette in the gloom of night, he decided that he didn’t care if the words had to be ‘spoken’. If that comet were truly as magical as the media was making it out to be, spoken or unspoken, his wish would be heard.

Jerry didn’t know what Henry was staring at but it was the first time he had seen him so at attention, so focused. So, as he settled down on nothing but cold ground, he decided he wouldn’t bother him.

Just as Jerry began to yawn, Henry’s ears stood straight up, his heart stuttering.

The comet was streaking past overhead.

Instantly, a single phrase ran laps around Henry’s mind, over and over again like a runaway ball of yarn.

Jerry’s yawn ended just as the comet disappeared over the darkened horizon of towering buildings.

And then, Henry heard a noise that caused him to glance back.

It started off slight, nothing more than a relaxed sigh, but then….

“I love you, Henry.”

It was the softest, gentlest coo Henry had ever heard. And he was only one who did hear it as Jerry was already asleep, completely unaware that he had spoke.

Such unbridled joy overcame Henry that all he could do was stare, transfixed. A few moments later, he made his way to Jerry’s side, spun in place a few times, then nestled up as close as he could, right in the space Jerry always left for him.

The surrounding silence was broken only by the soft, relaxing sounds of Henry purring. Because Henry was happy.

And come the morning, Jerry would be happy, too.