The Cat We Don't Have - Part 4

Part 4 –  How do you make time stand still?

Long about half way through summer of 2013, my curiosity piqued as to where The Cat We Don’t Have was spending her nights. The coming winter concerned me because reports of a really bad one ran rampant. Yes – even in summer, we Philadelphians are worried about the coming cold weather. Winter 2012 was a breeze, really, with hardly any snow fall to measure. I had 100 pounds of rock salt stored in my shed, which I never had to dip into because winter 2012 brought us so little ice or snow. Something told me our luck would not hold, and between that and rumors circulating around for a nasty time of it  in 2013, I was more than a little worried about the cat.

The little “house” I bought for her the year before still remained unused. It was really a kind of covered litter box, complete with little swinging door, and a soft, cozy blanket that I added to it. I thought she would go for it, but no – all it did was sit in our yard and collect dust and age, thanks to rain, sun and what-not. The blanket turned into a gooey, leaf-covered mess, which I had to toss out.

So, I would watch for signs of her comings and goings. As near as I could figure it, she seemed to spend a lot of time in my next door neighbor’s yard, which had countless bushes, flowers, and trees. Looking for signs of fur balls, or loose cat hair under or around these plants proved fruitless. I never found any, nor any signs of a nice little tamped-down bed. As for checking the flora and fauna, pardon the pun, but I was stumped! Where, oh where could this kitty cat be going each night? If I only knew, I thought, then maybe I could convince her somehow to find shelter in our yard, at least.

Our gazebo needed to be replaced; the cedar wood in the original one was rotting, piece by piece, and therefore made the structure risky at best, and dangerous at most, to use. However, our new one did not have a sliding door. It had a door that could be opened, closed, and even locked, just like any other door. I worried that this would mean a loss of shelter to her, but it could not be helped. They just did not make the older model gazebo any longer, so sliding doors were out of the equation.

The summer wore on, and turned to a lazy, brilliantly colored fall. Every morning, TC would either be waiting for me on the back porch for her breakfast, as well as again, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, for her evening feeding. It delighted me that she would meow to me (through the closed screen door, of course), often initiating our conversations. With glee, I would meow back and forth with her, happy to have my furry little companion visit me once again. The funny part of all this is that sometimes, if she wasn’t there in the morning, I would call out, “Here Kitty, kitty, kitty! It’s breakfast time!” and that would cause a virtual stampede of squirrels, birds, and goodness only knows what else, along with the cat. I believe we have a pet squirrel that thinks its name is “Kitty”. The clever little animal never fails to appear once I start to call out!

By late fall, I was really starting to become worried. After all this time, TC still did not allow me to get up close to her. At least, we did make some progress: she did not bolt away if I came outside anymore. She would walk very quickly to a distance of about 10 feet away, and continue to meow. I respected that and did my best not to upset her. 10 feet closer is 10 feet closer, after all.  I hoped that by winter’s first chill, I could coax her into the house and show her what she had been missing. That was the goal I wanted to achieve, more than anything else. This beautiful cat deserved a nice, warm, and loving home and I intended to give it to her.

Finally, winter arrived and the reports did not disappoint us. We had so much snow that we topped an old record for the most snow in one month – a total of 13 storms’ worth. All I could do was keep feeding my precious little pet that we didn’t own, because I felt that she owned us. She depended on us for food, and I was never going to let her down.

Each time she would come up on the porch, I would meow to her and then gently try to coax her to come inside. I was making progress! She went from running down the stairs once I opened the storm door, to remaining put on the top landing, and finally with great curiosity, peering inside.

I will never forget the “conversation” we had. It was mostly instinctual, but something passed between us, of that I am certain. It went something like this, with me using my voice, and she using her eyes:

Me: “Please, sweetheart! Come inside! Look how cozy and warm it is!”

TC: ‘Oh, my! I never looked inside a big box like that before!’

Me: “See? A pretty little braided rug, just for you – right there, in the kitchen where you can easily look out the back door if you want to.”

TC: ‘But…but…what lies beyond what I can see? How do I know there won’t be something there to scare me, or maybe even hurt me?’

Me: “Oh sweetie! You don’t ever have to worry. I would never, ever allow anything to hurt you! I just want you to be safe and warm, and to feel the loving touch of people who would treasure you!”

TC” ‘I don’t know …(peering even harder, stretching her neck forward as if that would help her to see more) It looks interesting, but….’

Me: “Please, Kitty, let us give you a good home. I really love you and don’t want to see you get sick, or hurt.”

TC:  (standing stock-still for another moment or two, during which time I held my breath) ‘Maybe another time…I - I’m just not so sure…”

And with that, she turned and went back down the steps, walking – but not running -- quickly toward my neighbor’s yard. With a hop, she was on the crate by the fence. With a skillful leap, she was over the fence and on her way to God only knew where.

I only knew we made a great stride that day and I was very encouraged. Very hopeful, now, that we were very close to having TC become an indoor/outdoor resident of our home, I smiled to myself and allowed myself to feel really happy with anticipation.

I wish now I could turn the clock back to that moment in time, and could have frozen it for a while. Maybe I would have handled things far differently. I would have had a little more time to encourage her, and convince her that I meant no harm.

In fact, now I am pretty sure that  I very well might have.

She would scamper away, much too fast for me to follow

To be continued….