Sept 22 Unthankful cat

 

Hayter for September 22, 2024

The joy of befriending a cat

            I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I am not a cat man. I imagine God created them for a purpose, but I’ve yet to discover it. Some cats are sweet and cuddly, and some behave as if they’re pretty much in charge.

Last week, Kay introduced me to one of those “in charge” cats. I didn’t ask to see it; she just brought the thing home. But she had a reason for her ill-thought-out decision.

The story begins with Kay stopped at an intersection waiting beside a pickup truck at a redlight. Unfortunately, she noticed a cat run across the road and hide beneath the truck. Being Kay, she immediately got out of the car and knocked on the window of the pickup, to let the driver know about the cat. The guy was surprised, but not enough to do anything about it, so Kay knelt down and coaxed the cat out from under the truck.  After which, she placed the thing in her car and drove off.

Before arriving home, Kay stopped at a convenience store to get a couple of cans of cat food. When she pulled into the garage, she located a box that she could put the cat in. Upon entering the kitchen, the first words out of her mouth were, “You’re not gonna like this, but there’s a cat in the box.”

I hoped she was talking about a Dr. Seuss book, but she wasn’t. She put the box on the floor in the hallway and asked me to keep an eye on it while she doctored her hand. Turns out that while saving the cat’s life, it bit her on the back of her hand. She didn’t blame the cat because the cat was scared.

Keep an eye on the cat? Kay had saved the thankless feline’s life, yet her reward was a bloodied and swollen hand. When I asked to help with her hand, she said, “Okay, but first wash your hands.” She had been bitten by a cat hiding under a truck, yet, I had to wash my hands.

Kay said that all of the animal shelters would be closed, so she would get into contact with someone the next day. She fixed up a bed for the cat in our guest room and put in a bowl of water and a small plate of great-looking cat food. (You may know that using great-looking” and “cat food “ in the same sentence is called an oxymoron.) Wisely, Kay scooped some dirt into a shallow box and placed it by the restroom door so the cat would know that it was a good place to relieve itself. Without question we had a smart cat in the house.

That evening, Kay and I took turns checking on the cat. By the time we went to bed, the creature was still in the box plotting its escape.

The next morning, Kay called the office of a nearby veterinarian clinic to see if they would check for a chip.   The lady who answered the phone said of course they would check for a chip. I told Kay that I would drive her there, while she sat in the backseat with the boxed cat. On our way over there, I assured Kay that if the lady couldn’t find a chip in the ferocious beast, it would not spend another night with the two of us. Kay said, “Hmm.” The girl can say a lot in one “Hmm.”

Well, God was with us that day, my friend. The vet lady was able to detect a chip under the cats fur. I screamed “thank you God” loud enough for someone in the parking lot to hear. I had no hope for that killer cat to be hauling around a chip. From said chip, the lady found the phone number of the owner and gave him a call. He said that he was on his way to claim Beelzebub. I assume that was its name.

I was so elated that I started petting on the back of the cat. He suddenly became almost placid. So unthreatening. He was just standing up in the box, taking life as calmly as a cat on weed. Each time I petted its neck he seemed more relaxed. It was about 10 minutes before the owner showed up, that I chose to again pet the cat. I lowered my hand into the box and the devil quickly turned its head and bit my hand. I kid you not. The bite didn’t draw blood, like Kay’s bite did. I’m fairly sure it was because my blood had gone straight to my face. I was so mad at the tricky hellcat!

It’s just like a cat, to light up as soon as its owner enters the room. The man brought his daughter along, and she was happy as could be. I can’t remember, nor will I care to remember the name of the cat. The owner stuck his hand in that box and the cat behaved as if the Lord of Cats had arrived. It climbed up his arm and was trying kiss him on his face. And the little girl? That young lady kept petting and hugging her cat. Turns out the cat had slipped out the door when his wife went outside.

Kay was not the one who took the cat away from its owners. The cat did that on its own. Kay merely saved the life of the lousy mouser, yet the shrew still tried to kill her and her husband.

There’s a lesson to learn from this. That being, get a dog. I wouldn’t have one, because of the responsibility to keep up with it. But, Kay? During my cremation, that girl will be carrying a dog around in a backpack. And you wanna know something? I probably won’t even care. Probably. 

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