growinghumans


Talk to Cats Because You Never Know if they are a Wizard, Guys
November 8, 2016, 12:32 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

As I have mentioned in previous blogs, my cats are assholes.

They are also impossibly fat assholes. So, when it is dinner time and one of them does not charge down the stairs like a slinky covered in fur, it’s something we notice.

This evening, Joey did not join us for dinner. It’s pretty regular for Oscar, our other cat, to escape outside and sit on our porch bench like he is king of the wild or something, but Joey has little interest in the outside. He’s suffered two strokes which almost killed and somehow didn’t, seizures, and general brain issues. In other words, Joey always seems to have one paw over the threshold of life and death.

So, when he didn’t appear for dinner, we immediately started searching the house. Usually when this happens, he’s gotten himself locked in a close or a cabinet or Mia’s playroom off of the back of the house. We checked all of the usual spots. Nothing. No trace of Joey. We walked around the entirety of the house, shaking the food bag, hoping to at least hear a “meow” in protest. Nothing. We heard nothing.

We finally went outside. At first I just stood on the porch, listening. The few times that Joey has gotten out he has made a mad dash back inside as soon as he hears the door open, probably yelling in cat language, “I HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE”. Nothing. No dashing.

I gave the food bag a good shake and made that clicking sound cat owners make to call their cats. He still would not appear. I walked the perimeter of our property, which is wooded, shaking and clicking. Clicking and shaking. No.

I was getting a little crazed and had unfortunately already used my daily Klonopin on some other emotional crises that kept on rolling in today, so I ended up standing in the middle of my cul-de-sac, shaking a bag of cat food, clicking and crying simultaneously. It was getting cold. He is not an outdoor cat.

A movement out of the corner of my eyes made my pivot on my heels faster than Ross Gellar with a couch going up some stairs. A cat! Catlike movement! But no, it was not my cat, but a mostly white one with orange ears. She sat about three feet from me, starring me down. No attempt to get to the food in my hand, or to be pet. Just sitting there, scrutinizing me.

“Do you know where my cat is?”, I asked the cat. From behind me, my husband who I did not know was out with me, “Did you just talk to that cat?”

I nodded, tears still rolling down my face. “She looked at me like Professor McGonagall. I didn’t want to risk not asking, just in case she happened to be a wizard.”

I was maybe only 29% joking.

I stood out there, in the cold with no shoes on and shaking that bag of cat food, for about half an hour. I was afraid he was trapped somewhere and couldn’t get lose. I was afraid he was dying or already dead somewhere.

No one’s cat should die alone. No one’s cat should be outside in the cold lost when they take their last breath.

We got Joey, both of cats actually, from the pet shelter in the town we went to college. We got Oscar first, as a kitten. As he grew older and ended up being a lone a lot of the day because we all had classes, he started to be depressed. He was a high energy cat at first. People would come to our place just to see him chase balls and run into walls. You could put him up on your shoulder and you could walk around with him like that. But then, he got withdrawn. He slept all day. He wouldn’t chase anything.

So, we decided to get him a friend. I wanted to get a little girl kitten close to his coloring. We went back to the shelter about a year to the day that we had first adopted Oscar. They had a whole basement there, full of kittens.

I sat on the steps, as I had done the year before, and watched them all run up to me, scratching my leg, pushing one another over. From behind me, I felt the gentle push of a cat rubbing up against you. I looked over and there was Joey. But, he wasn’t Joey then. He was Tex and he was emaciated. He climbed into my lap and curled right up to me. Clearly food was not the only thing he had been starved of. I didn’t really think anything of it, and kept picking up kittens for inspection. Tex stayed in my lap the entire time. One of the volunteers appeared beside me, “Poor guy. He’s been here for more than a year now. We usually let him in the front office because he loves people so much.”

To think that this cat was here last time when we got Oscar was depressing. I hadn’t even noticed him, considered him. It’s true, people don’t really want adult cats. I brushed my fingers along the top of his head and he leaned into my palm, and his joy was palpable.

Of course, we left with Tex. By the time we got back to our apartment, he was Joey. He brought love and happiness to everyone, Oscar most of all. He was a seamless fit into our family.

These cats, these tiny assholes, they have traveled with us where ever we have moved. Two apartments in college. My parents house for a time being. My in-laws house for  a time being. An apartment down in Durham. And then, finally our own house. They have always been there.

And now, I can’t find one. The sick one. The one who doesn’t know what he’s doing, if he is in fact outside.

I fear that if he is inside this house, that he stroked out finally and is dead. Every possible back outcome is running through my mind.

I don’t want to be the kind of person that asks you to PRAY FOR HER CAT, but guys.

Just send out a little signal–a breeze, a green light at the end of a dock, a passing thought. And hope that when the sun comes up we will be able to find poor, sweet Joey.

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1 Comment so far
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I’m so sorry to hear your kitty is missing! Sending you good positive vibes. Hopefully McGonnagal-cat will initiate the cat-network to find him and send him home!

Comment by Blaze2242




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