The Cat

Sometimes, I stop and reflect on life. Actually, I probably reflect on life a little bit more than I need to. This morning I was reflecting on the new cat next door. I say new because it’s only been there for a few months. The “old” cat, who we had named Kitty, had been there had been there for several years. My neighbor, John, and I discussed what we thought happened to Kitty. We believed that he succumbed to the fate that that befalls all of us if we don’t perish in an accident or by violence – some form of disease overtakes us or our body simply wears out. It’s a very temporal world we find ourselves in. Change is inevitable. It’s the one constant I can count on.

Kitty had been the King of the Neighborhood. He won every cat fight John and I ever witnessed. He was tough. Very tough. He lived under John’s house, coming in and out of a little opening on the East side of the house. Occasionally, I could get Kitty to spend the night at my house, but it wasn’t often. He did not like being cooped-up. He wanted out. Sometimes, during the winter when it was very cold, or during the spring when it rained incessantly, Kitty could be persuaded to stay for a couple of days. But, eventually, I would find Kitty standing at the front door meowing to High Heaven. He had a litter box in my house and plenty of food but that wasn’t enough. Kitty need freedom. He needed to prowl. He needed to be the consummate alley cat. He had a job to do and no one was going to keep him from his appointed rounds. Sometimes he would disappear for days on end. John and I wondered if he had another home a couple of blocks away that he frequented. We never knew for sure. Kitty just came and went as he pleased. He would show up and disappear. He would be around for awhile and then just as mysteriously be gone. When he was around he needed fed and he needed rubbed. Sometimes he would be very stand-offish, simply looking at me when I called him, telling me that he wasn’t interested in anything I had to say at that time. He was busy. Or something. He just wasn’t interested in anything human at that point in his day. At other times I would find him underneath my feet. This meant that he needed a massage. He needed attention and he would not leave me alone until I gave him a nice rubdown. He’d let me know when it was enough by ceasing to pester me to give him attention. Kitty liked me, he just didn’t like me all the time. When he wanted attention I was his best friend. When he didn’t I was an annoyance. Sometimes, Kitty would leave me presents on my front porch in the form of dead birds or animals. One day, Kitty just wasn’t to be found anymore. John went to the animal shelter periodically to see if he could locate him. We knew Kitty was old. We assumed he passed away like we are all going to do some day.

After an appropriate period of mourning John got a new cat. He has an appearance that was similar to Kitty. John hasn’t named him yet, even after several months. Since it’s not my cat, it’s not my place to name him. We just refer to him as the cat. He’s starting to remind me more and more of Kitty. He was several months old when John got him. He’s now several more months older. When John first got him he wouldn’t come to me. After several weeks of feeding the cat, he now comes to me. I think he’s going to be just like Kitty. He likes to stay under John’s house. I don’t see him every day. He comes over whenever he gets hungry and John hasn’t fed him. Sometimes I don’t see him for a few days. I’m starting to see him in locations in the neighborhood that are farther and farther from our houses. He’s also starting to get under my feet. It seems he’s now starting to need massages. He’s getting big, too. John says that he can stand on the floor in front of his washing machine and put his front paws at the top of the washer. John said the vet told him that the cat was going to be a very large cat. Maybe he’ll wind up being King of the Neighborhood like Kitty was. I’m starting to like this cat. I hope he doesn’t wind up with as many scars as Kitty had and I hope he doesn’t have to meet an early demise. The life of an alley cat can be pretty rough sometimes. Like mine.