A stray cat brings together five strangers over the course of one fateful summer in this heartwarming novel about love, found family, and the power of connection. Núria, a single-by-choice barista with a resentment for the "crazy cat lady" label, is a member of The Meow-Yorkers, a group in Brooklyn who takes care of the neighborhood’s stray cats. On one of her volunteering days, she starts finding Post-It notes from a secret admirer at the spot where her favorite stray lives--a black cat named Cat. Like most cats, he is rather curious and sly, so of course he knows who the notes are from. Núria, however, is clueless. Are the notes from Collin, a bestselling author and self-professed hermit with a weakness for good coffee? Are they from Lily, a fresh-out-of-high school Georgia native searching for her long-lost half-sister? Are they from Omar, the beloved neighborhood mailman going through an early mid-life crisis? Or are they from Bong, the grieving widower who owns Núria’s favorite bodega? When Cat suddenly falls ill, these five strangers find themselves bonded in their desire to care for him and discover that chance encounters can lead to the meaningful connections they''ve been searching for.

Autorentext
Tanya Guerrero is Filipino and Spanish by birth, and has been fortunate enough to call three countries home—the Philippines, Spain, and the United States. Currently, she lives in a shipping container home in the suburbs of Manila with her husband, their daughter, and a menagerie of rescued cats and dogs. She has volunteered for animal welfare organizations since 2008, with a focus on Trap/Neuter/Return and Rescue/Foster/Adopt groups. In her free time, she grows her own food, bakes, and reads.

Klappentext

“An uplifting tale of friendship, kindness, and connection . . . This joyful story of the unlikely friendship between five strangers and one remarkable cat is a must-read for cat lovers.”—Marianne Cronin, author of The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot

Núria, a single-by-choice barista with a little resentment for the “crazy cat lady” label, is a member of The Meow-Yorkers, a group in Brooklyn who takes care of the neighborhood’s stray cats. On her volunteering days, she starts finding Post-it notes left by a secret admirer in an area where her feeds her favorite stray—a black cat named Cat. Like most felines, he is both curious and observant, so of course he knows who the notes are from. Núria, however, is clueless.

Are the notes from Collin, a bestselling author and self-professed hermit with a weakness for good coffee? Are they from Lily, a fresh-out-of-high school Georgia native searching for her long-lost half sister? Are they from Omar, the beloved neighborhood mailman going through an early midlife crisis? Or are they from Bong, the grieving widower who owns Núria’s favorite bodega?

When Cat suddenly falls ill, these five strangers find themselves bonding together in their desire to care for him, and discover that chance encounters can lead to the meaningful connections they’ve all been searching for.

Leseprobe
Núria

Núria didn’t need an alarm clock. Every morning at six on the dot, three sets of paw daggers would stab her legs, her stomach, her chest, her face. Sandpapery tongues groomed her hair until finally, she shifted and groaned. At which point the owners of the daggers would meow in chorus until she staggered out of bed, bleary-eyed.

“Okay, I’m up!” she said, finding her way into her tiny kitchen. The three ingrates followed her, circling her legs, meowing as if it were the end of the world. She tripped over a ginger-colored cat before reaching her destination—the cupboard that held stacks and stacks of salmon-flavored Gour-Meow, the ingrates’ favorite canned food.

Meeeooowww!

The howls became even more desperate as she popped a can open, scooping the foul-smelling pâté into the clean bowls she’d left on the counter the night before. It was only when she’d carefully placed the bowls on the floor, spaced one foot apart, that silence finally reigned. Well, not total silence, since she lived in a second-floor walk-up on one of the busiest streets in Brooklyn. Still, it was quiet enough for her to relax and get on with her day.

First, coffee. Núria scrounged around, searching for some beans. But there were none. “Crap,” she mumbled.

Somehow, she always remembered to restock the ingrates’ food, but when it came to her own needs her brain turned to mush. No coffee. No toilet paper. No food. She opened the fridge and glared at the one Granny Smith apple. The only other items were a stick of vegan butter, a carton of expired oat milk, a jar full of ketchup packets, and a lone bottle of something that had rolled to the back of one of the shelves. She reached for it and pulled it out, grinning when she realized it was the rest of the cold brew from the other day that she’d forgotten about.

Maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

She plopped down on one of two chairs, part of a Formica dining set she’d picked up at the Salvation Army, the table only as big as two pizza boxes. By then, the ingrates had finished their breakfasts and scurried off to call dibs on their favorite spots in her cluttered studio apartment. Miel, the ginger tabby, hopped onto the windowsill next to her half-dead cactus. Gazpacho, the chubby calico, curled up on her pillow. Last but not least, Churro, the chocolate-colored cat, crawled under the bed where nobody would bother him.

While drinking her cold brew, Núria scrolled through her emails, reading but not really, as if her mind was somewhere else. It had been a while since she’d really cared about anything. Even the things she’d loved, like volunteering with the Meow-Yorkers, a rescue and trap-neuter-return organization, and her job as a barista at a nearby café had lost their luster. She didn’t know why, but for the last year, she felt like she’d been walking through life half-asleep. A zombie. A robot. A shell of the human she’d once been.

Beep! A text from her mother popped onto the screen.

Oye! Look! Even the Pope says that pets aren’t children.

Attached to the text was a link to an article titled, “Pope Scolds Couples Who Choose Pets over Kids.” Núria sighed. She didn’t even bother reading it. What was the point? Ignore and delete. That had been her coping mechanism for the last few years, since her mom had started harassing her about grandchildren on her thirty-fifth birthday. Núria hadn’t had the courage to tell her that she had no plans on birthing a bunch of mini-Núrias. Not because she thought she’d ever change her mind, but because she wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with the fallout. Spanish women of a certain age dreamed of having grandchildren, and the thought of taking that dream away from her mother made her break out in hives.

Núria went over to the windowsill, where Miel was busy chirping at some birds. She scratched his furry chin, the gesture soothing to them both. An instant Xanax of sorts. She needed as much calm as she could get. Because it was Núria’s day off. Instead of languishing in bed bingeing on Netflix, she had to venture outside to do her regular feeding. Since she would have more time on her hands to do her rounds properly, she would also have more time to work herself into a nervous ball of energy. Part of her volunteering duties involved making sure that none of the strays had any medical issues requiring emergency care. For her, that was the most stressful part of her volunteering duties. F…