You were a friend. And I’ll miss you. You were sort of my writing partner.
Just yesterday morning, you were entwining your little body around my feet while I was working on a writing project. I was sitting on my porch, laptop balanced on my lap, and there you were. We often wrote together.
Your method of getting affection was simple. You’d slip past me, just out of reach. And it was only when I quit paying attention to you that you’d wander back casually, cautiously, and lay at my feet. You’d stay there all day as I tapped away.
Your ears were mangled. Your tail was chewed up. I could tell you were scrappy. But I always got the impression that you were gentle at heart, and you seemed to know something about the nature of reality that I didn’t.
You weren’t mine. You belonged to Mister Bud, our next-door neighbor. The old man who loved you. He lives alone, and you two were the best of friends. You were always at his side. You followed him everywhere.
But in a way, you sort of belonged to the whole neighborhood.
The thing I remember most about you was how you were always here to greet those who came and went. You sat right in the middle of the street. That was your perpetual spot. The middle of the street. Watching cars.
I’ve seen you there at midnight, beneath the streetlamp, as the taxi dropped me off after a late flight in from New York.
“Uh, there’s a cat in your street,” said my Uber driver. “He’s blocking my way.”
“It’s only Cat,” I’d say.
That was your name. I don’t know how Mister Bud started calling you Cat, but the name stuck. We all called you that.
I got home today around lunchtime to find a police vehicle in our neighborhood, along with an animal control vehicle. All the neighbors were standing around in the street—the same place where you used to sit.
I stepped out of my truck. I saw your remains and I began to cry.
“Cat’s been killed,” said my wife. Tears in her eyes.
The lady with animal control thought maybe some hoodlums did it. “It’s sick,” she said. “But it’s happened before.”
One of the cops thought maybe it was a hawk. Or perhaps a coyote. Maybe a bobcat. Someone saw a black bear a few streets over last week. Nobody knows. I guess it doesn’t matter now.
But we were all there, Cat. You should have seen us. We were all talking about you.
You might have thought you were just a plain old cat, and maybe you didn’t mean much to selfish humans like us. But you did. We were all there.
Mister Bud dug a hole for you. We all placed rocks upon your grave. My wife brought flowers. And I recited Psalm 23 with a quavering voice.
“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul…”
Mister Bud’s eyes were rimmed pink. I almost couldn’t finish.
A lot of people might think us foolish for caring so deeply about a cat. And maybe we are. But you were more than that. You were ours. We were yours. It will always be this way, no matter where your little soul may be. I’m sorry we somehow failed you.
And I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t easy writing this alone.
5 comments
Susie Murphy - October 11, 2024 12:50 pm
I have cats for many many years. They have taken a piece of my heart when they crossed the bridge. Cats tend to get a bad rap but they are loving sweet little buddies. My current little buddy is a feisty calico girl.
Deena k Charles - October 11, 2024 2:49 pm
I’m so sorry for your loss, but thank you for showing so much respect, they’re not just cats, they are family and they are special. And now I am crying…
Joyce - October 11, 2024 3:41 pm
I don’t understand how people live without cats around. The loving, the acceptance, the companionship, the wisdom that comes with this fur baby. I understand your sense of loss. So glad you had Cat in your life for a while. And I suspect there are are few more in your community who need loving and safe homes. Each with their own gift to give. Let that be Cat’s gift to you. A pass along gift!
Frances Rose - October 11, 2024 6:21 pm
This is so true! Thanks for saying it.
Patricia Taylor - October 11, 2024 7:17 pm
How Sad! I know he will be missed! My prayers are with his owner and with all of you who loved him! I have a cat that I rescued about five years ago. She showed up in my yard, seemingly on her last legs. I couldn’t turn her down. I named her Miss Kitty. She is gray and white and such a clean little girl. She gives herself an all over bath every night before she goes to sleep. She has her own little air conditioned, attached “garage apartment.” She knocks like a person on my kitchen door every morning when she hears me up. I started singing “Jesus Loves Me” to her a few years back. It is her favorite song. I talk to her and tell her that God created her and He says in His Word, that the animals are MINE! (His)… I take that as we better not mistreat them! She goes out into my big fenced in yard to chew on grass and drink rainwater. Quite the little Hunter, she sits under the bird feeder to try to catch a bird. She also searches the yard for a mole or a ground squirrel and is successful sometimes. She brings them to my front door mat as a present for me. She loves our time in the chair, her wrapped in a big towel and me singing to her. She snakes her little paw out of the towel and gently touches my face with a look of love in her eyes. I don’t know who enjoys it more, me or her… My husband passed away eight years ago and I live alone. She is such a sweet comfort and I tell her God sent her to me. I remind her that she is part of God’s Circle of Life when He created the earth. Her little Meow is broken, I suspect from abuse before I got her. She meows, but just a barely audible sound comes out sometimes, sometimes not. She talks to me with her beautiful gold eyes and actions. My little Miss Kitty is God’s Gift to me and I thank Him…