The Cat We Don't Have - Part 5

Part 5 –  If only

The weather was truly unusually cold and just not spring-like We were threatened with yet another storm, possibly freezing rain, sleet, or snow and spring was already officially a week old. No matter; gray, gloomy skies full of moisture loomed and I am sure only added to my growing apprehension.

It was almost a full week and TC had not eaten her food. In fact, I hadn’t even seen her for a few mornings and evenings, so the birds were having a wonderful time eating her meals. With nothing to fear, they eagerly sat poised on her dish, waiting for me to open the door and fill TC’s bowls up with food.

Finally, one day she appeared but my happiness at seeing her was short-lived. She looked terrible. So thin, her back bone stood out against the flesh of her shrinking body. Her fur looked very wrong somehow, as if she had forgotten to groom herself. Her plaintive crying told me all I needed to know:

She was very, very sick.

No wonder the tasty morsels I was leaving for her went untouched: fresh mahi mahi, hamburger meat, tuna fish meant for humans, and sometimes chicken mixed in with her dry food went virtually untouched – except for the birds that picked around the meat. She approached her bowl, and it looked like she was going to eat. But, she didn’t. She just backed away and with a gentle turn of her body, went back down the steps. I did not want to follow her because I did not want to startle or traumatize her. I wish now that I had tried harder to find out where she was going. But, as my mom used to say, “If wishes were wings, beggars would fly.”  If only I had tried harder, maybe this story would not end here. But….

This went on for the better part of one more week. Between the miserably cold and wet weather, the unforgiving winds, and my aching bones (a few different bone ailments and artificial joints giving me a rough time), I just did not go out and try to see where she was going. She would appear almost each day, and repeat the same thing:  bend her head down to her dish, perhaps try a few licks, and then back off and go away.  If only……

I thought about trying to catch or trap her, but to be honest, I just didn’t have the heart to do something so traumatizing to her. I had tried so hard for almost 2 years to befriend this cat, and to let her know I would never hurt her. How could I do something so foreign to her as to try and catch her, and place her into a cat carrier box? I don’t move fast, anyway, so it looked like I would have to rely on my voice, softly calling to her and crooning to her.

Then, one day I heard her calling me. I swear, this is what she was doing.

TC: “Meeee-OW!  Meoww!!’

Me: “What is it, kitty? Where are you?”

I looked at the bottom of the stairs out back but it took me a few seconds to spot her, along side of our little porch. She was looking up toward me and calling out to me. Of course, I answered. I even went down to the bottom of the steps, gently meowing with each step,  and was within one foot of her. This alone was astonishing to me – wow, I thought. Just one foot!  It was the closest I had ever gotten to her. She just looked up at me and cried. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. I could tell something was very, very wrong.

I reached out my hand ever so slightly and then, she made a very short hissing sound and moved too fast for me to follow. I could see how thin she looked and it tore at my heart. Within moments, she was gone and it was too cold and wet for me to follow. I went back into the house as fast as I could go, and went out the front door, thinking that maybe if I doubled-back on her, I could at least see where she was going.

It was no use. I don’t know how she managed to do it, but it seemed that within mere moments, she simply disappeared.

For the next few days, I would call out to her each morning and evening – and even throughout the day. It was a futile effort. She simply did not, or would not, or could not, come. I prayed silently that she was warm somehow, and maybe Mother Nature was working her miracles and healing her somehow. No matter – I would leave food out for her every day, and each day, the birds would come in the afternoon and polish it off.

Then, one late afternoon, my neighbor rang my doorbell. When I saw her face, I knew something was wrong. I prayed it had nothing to do with either of her own kids.

“Marie, we found a dead cat in our cellar window well and we are afraid it might be your cat. Would you please come and take a look?”  she said, her eyes already brimming with tears.

My world just crashed down on me all at once. It felt as if someone squeezed my heart really hard – I could hardly catch my breath. It was super windy and very cold outside, but I did not care. I asked her to please wait for me while I put on my coat and shoes.

Together, we went to her backyard. I could see the window well where she must have spent her nights. It was covered with a large board, angled up against the building. I had never noticed it before, so of course I never checked it out.  If only…..

My neighbor’s  husband was already standing by the receptacle where they had put her.  All I had to do was to see the tail – and I knew. Perfect concentric dark circles told me what I did not want, but needed to know.

It was my cat. Not “the” cat or “a” cat, but MY cat.  Very gently, I placed my hand on her tail and then on her back. Her head was facing downward, away from me, but that no longer mattered. At long last, after nearly 2 years, I was able to touch her, so I did.  And, I cried.

We placed her in a plastic bag, lined with a soft towel and I held the bag to my chest, cradled in my arms, crooning to her oh, so softly. I carried her home and in the wind and the rain, I dug a little grave for her, back by where Max’s memorial garden is and I laid her gently into the earth.  I happened to have an angel statue (remember the angel garden I wrote about in my first blog, in the Wicky the Wat story? Well, it was that angel). I tenderly placed the statue on top of her grave and told the angel to watch over it. I knew she would.

I stood in the rain and let it wash the tears from my face. Saying I love you to this precious little being one more time, I turned and slowly walked back up to the house, leaving her at peace.

I will always wonder if she knew how much she was loved. I will also always wonder if her spirit felt my gentle touch that day, or my arms gently holding her against my heart. I like to think that she knew.

In my mind I can picture her waiting in heaven with all of the other animals I have loved and had the honor to be chosen to be a part of their lives. I am sure my mother is rocking her in her lap up in heaven, telling her stories about her ‘crazy daughter who loves animals so much.’

Honestly, I think my cat knew all along.