For some reason, off and on over the years, I have this "thing" with cats. I don't know what it is, but sometimes I swear if there is a cat anywhere within a mile radius of me that is in need of something, I tend to find it. Or maybe it finds me.
It started years ago, at my parent's former beach house. I heard a cat crying in the brush at the end of the driveway. It saw me, it kept crying. I could tell it wanted to come out of the bushes yet it was hesitant. Eventually, the lonely kitty, abandoned by the home's former owner, did come across the lawn to meet me. And I fed it dried dog food while my dad stood at the sliding glass window, shaking his head. Shortly thereafter, "Lily" the cat found her way into my parents' hearts and home because unfortunately, they are blessed with a deep love of all creatures great and small.
My mom calls Lily her "angel cat" and I have to tell you, if it wasn't for me and my persistence and a bowl of dampened dog food, I'm not so sure that cat would have found a family again.
Another time, I was dog sitting for a friend and woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a cat crying, a sad, desperate cry. There was a small strip of lawn and a fence that separated the town home I was in from a small apartment complex next door. I could hear the cat all night, even through closed windows. I was so frustrated. Why wasn't the person letting the cat in? Was it hungry? Cold? Did the owner go on vacation and leave it out? The cat was still there the next day. I peered through the cracks on the fence and saw it on the doormat of one of the apartments. It seemed to know it lived there. I crawled through the landscaping at the end of the fence line and called the tiger-striped cat. It did come, but wouldn't let me pet it. I filled a Tupperware with water and food and hid it there. I noticed a sign on the side of the building with the landlord's phone number. The cat still hung around, and cried, all day. This was bothering me to no end. I felt bad for that cat. I made it my mission to figure out what was going on. I called and reported the cat crying. I was just trying to help. The landlord said she knew of the unit and would stop by and check it out. She did say that the tenant was not supposed to have a cat. Oops. I finished out the dog sitting job and never heard what happened to that cat.
Two summers ago, I had a strange visitor to my patio. A very masculine looking medium-haired gray striped cat with a bob-tail.
The cat would appear late in the afternoon, and just sit or lay on the warmth of my cement patio, staring out into the night as twilight set in.
Maybe the cat was hunting birds that flitted about the bushes. He'd come over and rub on my legs and let me pet him. He was well-fed and cared for. Even wore a collar, sporting a new one at some point in time. I never knew where he lived, which house he belonged to. I kept a bowl of water for him on the patio. One day, after this happening for several months, he just disappeared.
While driving around with family on a recent vacation, we drove down a dead-end road. We had been looking at houses that we'd lived in as children and were snapping pictures like the paparazzi. As we exited the street and stopped at the stop-sign, I saw a black cat appear in the ditch. It stopped to watch us and didn't move. I told my cousin to wait and I jumped out of the Suburban on a whim, Nikon in hand, crouching down low and calling the cat. The cat looked at me and did not run off. But it also did not want to meet me and it walked off down the ditch. The cat was beautiful, jet black with yellow eyes. I couldn't get a good focus on the eyes.
Halloween is over. But last week, on a stormy wet night, I got into my car to go to the grocery store. As I pulled away from the curb I saw a black cat streak across the end of my very busy street, towards entrance of my house. As I got to the stop-sign, I looked at the steps leading to my patio and the cat was standing on them, looking back at me. I quickly backed up my car back into it's parking space, pulled up my coat hood, and headed back out into the pelting rain to see where the cat had gone. It was no longer on the steps but as I walked up I saw it scuttle under the over sized azalea bush. I called it, here kitty kitty, which could hardly be heard over the sound of car tires on the wet pavement as they drove by. I bent down towards the bush and called again, and the cat leaped onto the wall surrounding that part of the yard and disappeared, probably to the sidewalk below, where it slunk off into the dark night. Avoiding the road, I prayed.
Many, many times, I have been told by people how surprised that their cat, which does not normally approach strange people, is not afraid of me, and, quickly becomes my friend.
My parents had a feral kitten that let nobody other than my parents touch or pick her up. Even though I visited my parents at their homes for weekends frequently in my twenties and early thirties, it does not explain the closeness I shared with that cat based on the little day-to-day contact I actually had with her. She would sleep in bed with me, sit on my lap, and let me pick her up and hold her.
What do you think it is with me and cats? I don't consider myself a "cat lady." I don't even have a pet cat. Why are we finding each other? I have some theories of my own. Have you ever had something pervasive like this in your life? A series of events, which separate, are just experiences- yet when you connect them dot-to-dot, perhaps some kind of meaning starts emerging out of them?
Miss Lucie Grace
1 year ago