Beech Tree News Network

I have another cat.  Yeah, me, who said no more cats after my cat, Figaro, passed away last fall.  The new cat is a huge, black male cat that showed up at our barn one evening.  He’s very gentle, and I feed him on the back sidewalk. 

               Brother Cat and Sister Cat stare at him through the glass on the sunroom door.  He stares back, just a few inches away.  Brother and Sister are probably thinking, “Why is he so special that he gets to be outside?”  The black cat is probably thinking, “Why are they so special that they get to be inside?”  The three cats seem more curious of than threatened by one another.

               I know, I know, I should find homes for all three of them, but I can’t seem to do it.  I was really planning to find a good home for the sibling pair, but the little rascals have imprinted their personalities on my heart and inserted themselves into my daily routine, as well.

               Some mornings, it looks like Brother and Sister are doing laundry.  They pull down every jacket from the coat rack and they’re strewn from one end of the hall to the other.  Other times, they decide the plant on my counter needs to be repotted—not sure it’s going to survive the process.

               Cats tend to be nocturnal, so that’s when all the hijinks occur, at night when we’re asleep.  They know neither Garey nor I are present with the spray bottle of water we use as a deterrent to keep them off the counter and the table.  One morning, I noticed Garey had forgotten to close the bathroom door before he went to bed the night before, and I found Sister brushing her teeth with my toothbrush.  Luckily, I have spares.

               After I have them spayed and neutered, I will let them go outside as much as they want.  Instead of listening to them gallop up and down the hall all night, they will probably spend their time running across the roof, which is easily accessible from the maple tree in our yard.

               Garey says I need to stop writing about cats and maybe, we wouldn’t end up with so many.  He says people know I have a soft spot for felines, and they’re dropping off their unwanted cats on our doorstep.  I think there are far more sophisticated things going on around us, like a cat signal over our house.  You know, like the one Batman has.  Instead of bat wings, however, there’s beacon of a giant bowl of cat food, and only cats can see it.  Or maybe, we have a feline neighborhood watch group that conveys messages to each other the way the dogs did in the movie, “101 Dalmatians,” when the puppies were dognapped.

               Animals know things we don’t know they know.  They communicate with one another in a language we can’t understand.  I believe our little spot of earth has become a safe house for the unwanted.  I know I can’t feed them all, but I can offer a meal until they can find a forever home. 

               If you’re missing a large, black, extremely gentle cat, who doesn’t seem to mind living in a barn, let me know.  I will make arrangements to get him back to you. 

               If you want a large, black, extremely gentle cat, who doesn’t mind living in a barn, let me know.  I will make arrangements to get him to you.

               I know I can’t, but I wish I could keep them all.

               (Don’t tell Garey I said that.)