The Cat We Don't Have - Part 2

Part 2 – Getting to Know You

When Max’s battle with cancer was over, I was so emotionally devastated that I vowed to never again have a pet. Max and I had been through a lot together. My constant companion for nearly 15 years, he was there for me when my husband had to be out of town, which was quite a bit, or was simply too preoccupied with his own life’s events to have much time left over for me.  My faithful dog was there for me when my mother passed away, and curled up on the spot where her hospital bed had been, as if to say, “I will watch over your spot, Grandma.” 

 Over the years, I spent a lot of time recovering from some pretty difficult surgeries, and Max always cheered me up with his kind, gentle mannerisms and loving antics. So, when he died, it was as if I had lost a real child, someone who loved me without question or conditions. There was simply no way I was ever going to open myself up to that kind of pain again – so I promised myself, ‘No more animals. Ever.’

Suddenly, I was facing a minor dilemma once again: a stray had singled me out, most likely for food alone. And, I was OK with that. At least, I was ok with it for a while. I made sure The Cat We Don’t Have (which I shortened to “TC’) had the best cat food, and  I unashamedly spiked it liberally with all kinds of good stuff: steak, roast beef, fish, shrimp, and turkey, and so on. I always saved her a few bites or more of whatever we were having. It tickled me to see her dive in to her food dish, which in time was moved from the bottom of the steps to the top landing, which she surprisingly allowed me to do. There was just one condition: I was never, ever to try to approach her once she began to eat. I had to remain hidden on the other side of the door, peeking out carefully through the curtains.

The days turned into weeks, then months, and finally one whole year had passed. I was beginning to feel a little bit impatient with TC, so anxious was I to form a real bond with her. More than anything else, I longed for the day when she would approach me herself and allow me to touch her. Visions of her curled up in front of our fireplace, or on my lap,  on cold winter days and nights filled my head with hope and eager anticipation.  But, try as I might, TC showed great fear and would run away as fast as she could, running from the human monster that she was sure was going to hurt her. So, I hit upon an idea that I hoped would help to convince her that I meant no harm, and only love:

I started meowing to her through the door.

She heard me and to my great delight, she began to meow back at my voice! So, day by day, I would crack the door open a little bit further and ‘sing’ to her with my poor attempts at her language. At last one day, the door was fully open, and still protected by the outer storm door, she looked me dead in the eyes and meowed back to me. I could hardly believe it! So, together, we meowed back and forth for a while until I realized she must be hungry and wanted to eat. So, I left her to her food. A little while later, I looked out through the window and saw that she was gone. The bowl was totally empty.

In excitement, I called out to Peanut one through five and tossed out their usual trove of peanuts, dried corn,  and sunflower seeds. Within moments, my yard was full of squirrels, birds, and even Gus poked his head out, grabbing for the pieces of melon I tossed toward the shed. I had to laugh – all was right with the world. Everyone was being fed and showed signs of harmony, of being happy to all be eating together. All, that is, except for TC. She would not come back my way until later on, at dinner time.

Then, it hit me. What was I doing, I asked myself. Somehow, I had allowed myself to feel an attachment to this stray, feral cat and it felt too late to turn back, to turn the emotions off. For some stupid reason, it felt as if her name, ‘The Cat We Don’t Have” proved she was not our pet – so I clung to it. As long as we did not have a pet cat, I would be OK, I thought.

How wrong I was, it turned out. But it was way too soon to know that. I could still fool myself into believing that ‘we did not own a cat.’  Not much, that is.

Looking back at me through screen door

To be continued....