By Terri Estes
Over the course of my lifetime, a variety of cats have come through my life, and all but one has adopted my family, rather than my family adopting them. I am sure that many of you can relate to this. The first cat that became a part of my family was a little tortoise shell cat that followed my sister, Pat, home to our Breezy bungalow one summer night. That cat was persistent. Our dog, Shamrock, hated that cat and would chase her every chance he got. She still hung around our house, though. My mother hated her just as much as Shamrock and would squirt the hose in her direction if she got too close. That was all until we discovered that the little cat was pregnant. Well, my mother, who hated cats, couldn’t stand the sight of them, all of a sudden developed a soft spot for this little pregnant cat, whom we had already named Little Orphan Annie.
Having six kids of her own, mom must have sensed the peril of this poor forlorn mother-to-be and took little Annie into her home. A few weeks later, that cat gave birth to four kittens under my mother’s bed! Us kids were thrilled! My mom, not so much.
When the kittens were just a couple of weeks old, we found another kitten who was a couple of weeks older than Annie’s kittens. We handed that kitten over to Annie, who took care of that new kitten just like it was one of hers. No good deed goes unpunished, so they say. That adorable little kitten gave Annie, her kittens and all of us kids ringworm.
The next cat in my life was an orange tabby and, once again, my sister Pat along with her husband, Tom, was the finder of this adorable, tiny orange kitten. And the location of the find was at the same little bungalow in Breezy. That little kitten was named Rocky, and he was the family cat for 17 years.
Years later, I worked in a large hospital in the city and our parking garage was under the FDR Drive. One night, after a long 12-hour shift in the ER, I went to the parking garage, and while I was waiting for the attendant to bring me my car, a grey cat came walking up to me and started circling me and rubbing up against my leg. This cat was filthy! I ended up learning that he was grey with a white neck and paws, but at that moment he was only one color — muddy. I asked the attendant whose cat it was, and if he had fed it. He said that the cat showed up a few days ago, and no, he had not fed it, because … well, because we were under the FDR drive for Pete’s sake and there was no food around! He told me that the cat wouldn’t come near anyone and hid in the shadows and that I was the first person he had approached. I told that cat to hop into my car because I was busting him out of that dump, and he did just that. Now, many of you may know that cats HATE traveling in cars, but this guy just curled up on the front seat and enjoyed the ride. I named that cat City Cat, and he turned out to be a wonderful companion. He was very social and affectionate. He was part of my family for 14 years.
This brings me to the most recent cat that chose me or my kin as their own. A few days ago, my husband called me to come outside to the yard. I told him that I was busy, but he insisted, stating that we had a visitor. The last thing that I wanted at that time was a visitor. I stepped outside my back door and there she was, surrounded by my pack of curious dogs, just purring and meowing. This little cat was not afraid of my dogs, and not afraid of us. She was, however, skin and bones, and filthy. That was all that my daughter had to see. Like her mother, she is a softy for animals in need. She went into nurture mode. She fed this little cat and wiped her down with pet wipes and checked her for fleas. She gave her fresh water and prepared a place for her to sleep, and that is what that little cat did. My dogs would sniff her and nudge her, but she just rested. For two days, she ate and drank and slept, and became a part of the family. She would go in and out the doggie door with my dogs. She would beg for food at the table with the dogs and purr to be petted. And then, she just disappeared. We searched high and low for her. We left food on the back deck for her. We put her picture on the Facebook neighborhood page, but she had other plans. This one didn’t stick around. I had resigned myself to having another mouth to feed. Another vet bill, another responsibility. And while all this extra responsibility should have deterred me, we had grown to really care for that little cat. But the universal cat distribution system decided that this one was meant for someone else.
I’m sure there will be another one down the line.
