Beginnings With Neighborhood Cats
Thus begins my understanding of both domestic cats and community cats. Not everything is in chronological order, but then, every account has a beginning, a history, and some interruptions and digressions.
On one overcast early morning, my cat Clyde whispered: “Every life deserves nine cats. Your life won’t be complete until then.” He continued: “Let your meditation be ‘Meow’ as you focus on this touchstone of feline wisdom.” I have always listened to Clyde and believe every word he tells me; he’s never steered me wrong.
Now then, before there even was a Clyde, there was Clyde’s mother, Lexie (HRH Alexandria Regina), who is an old, wise mama cat. I recall that she spent countless hours teaching her last litter of kits, Clyde, Hope, and Hunter.
I vividly remember Lexie talking to her kits into the long hours of one evening in the late summer as they lay around her. Then, for some unknown reason, that particular evening just slowed to a halt. Everything was still. It was 11:45 PM. I moved in a bit closer to listen and I heard her say with an unwavering voice to her teary eyed kits, “Yes, my little ones, all cats do go to heaven. If it were not so, I would have told you.” Time stood still as those words of comfort were quietly engraved on my heart and theirs. Within moments, they all began purring and snuggled together for a long and comforting nap until their usual 3:00 AM playtime. Life has never been the same after that.
The sacred moments in our lives and those of our cats are precious. We hold those moments forever in our hearts with a love that’s ineffable. And – we are careful who we share those moments with. One doesn’t throw pearls before swine. (Matthew 7:6)
Well, I got ahead of myself as I sometimes do. There are so many memories and I have to carefully pick and choose.
It all really began in the quiet late afternoon of an early winter day in 2006 as the western sun had just become an orange ball settling just over the treetops. As we were nearing our Belvidere home, we noticed a white animal; it was a large cat crawling out of a wide opening storm sewer at the curb. It was snowing with large, lazy, fluffy flakes hovering above the ground. Our granddaughter, who was with us, bestowed upon him the name of Snowball. We now know well after that time, that because of Snowball’s age and reputed wisdom (it’s a small neighborhood and things get around here) he was respectfully called the old, wise man, and many went to him for solace, advice, and thoughts about humans. He’d survived a long time as a feral and knew more than the others. He truly merited all the respect he received. Snowball is still with us.
We discovered that feral cats will present themselves to people who will help. We just didn’t know it then and we didn’t know that it would happen to us.
I’d never seen him before just as I’d never seen other ferals in the neighborhood. Perhaps the new pair of glasses I’d gotten allowed me to see. Or, maybe Snowball was one of the great gifts, like so many, that have been there for years; I had just never opened this one.
It was a great wake up moment that captured us then and hasn’t let go over the unending months and years. That moment was a precious gift in the midst of a normal and often uneventful life. A short time later, Snowball came to the back porch – actually it’s a 3′ X 3′ step. He sat there with a deep expectant look – no, I’m not anthropomorphizing here; we didn’t have any cat food. Well, who would?
Now, there was some warm roast beef from supper and some cans of tuna on a shelf. Guess what? He liked the roast beef and the tuna. He ate as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Go figure!
I will stop here and move many, many months later. My cat Clyde (TNR #009) told me once again: “Every good life should have nine cats – it will make you more human.” Then, as he placed a paw on my cheek, he said: “Yes, Craig, Snowball was very hungry when he first appeared on your porch. No one else had noticed him either. And, no one had fed him so well. He did look into your eyes and spoke to you. You are forever in his heart as he is in yours.”
One man put it so well: “Cats are a mysterious kind of folk. There is more passing in their minds than we are aware of.” (Sir Walter Scott)
I am thankful for all of you who care for cats in a variety of ways. Of course, we never own them. We remember the truth of: “Dogs have masters. Cats have staff.”
From those of you involved in rescue work, in TNR projects, who volunteer at shelters, and support others, there are often accounts of overwhelming difficulties, the stories of the love you have for all of your animals, and the unexpected sadness and tears of disappointment when things just don’t seem to work out. Then there’s the stunning grief of finding one of your ferals out on the road – why do they have to cross the road anyway? It’s of little immediate comfort at the time, but “All cats do go to heaven.”
Snowball is an old, wise cat. He likes to remind me of an old saying. He says it will keep my hopes up and a smile on my face. “To the world, you’re just another person. To a rescued cat, you are the world.” I don’t think there’s any reward or honor which is greater than that, do you?
Please share with me some of your moments with your indoor cats, and your neighborhood cats.