Reading my friend Jan Morrill’s post about her cat Malika and her sad death gave me pause to sit and watch my cat, who has grown so dear to me in the fourteen years she has spent with us. In our laps, wrapped around one neck or another, perching atop my husband’s hip to sleep away the night. I never understood how he could sleep all night with an almost ten pound feline curled on one hip, but he did. Just never had the heart to push her off I guess. She missed him for a long while after he passed away.
Today I watched her through the screen door where she lay in the shade on our deck. It’s high above the ground on the side of the mountain where we live and she likes that her one sworn enemy, dogs, can’t get to her there. Except for lizards, squirrels, birds, and at night braver souls like coons and possums. Today a small lizard ventured calmly across the floor near her nose. She cracked open her eyes, just a bit, saw her visitor and as if she shrugged went back to sleep. I call her my “no kill” cat. I’ve seen her try to make friends of a visiting baby rat sitting in our dining room by touching it on the head with one paw, then walking calmly away.
She is smart, so it’s not that she doesn’t get it. It’s just that she never learned to kill. She came to me straight from a nest of feral babies, two of which had bobbed tails like their father, who was seen roaming through the pastures some time before their birth. My daughter found them in time to save two. The others had died. She brought me the female and kept the male. They looked exactly alike, butterscotch and white, except ours had a bobbed tail and hers had a long snake like tail.
Bobbi learned early on to open screen doors from inside or outside the house, and so all summer she can come and go as she pleases. Yet, in spite of that, she prefers the kitchen door which –yes, you guessed it — there is no screen so the door is closed and mommy has to open the door for her.
She will lie on the deck and watch birds in the tree tops and on the honeysuckle vine that crawls up the post and over the rail. Never does she try to catch one. Squirrels and red foxes who live nearby are her playmates. Only thing she does not like are dogs because they want to chase her and so up a tree she goes. Once so high she had to be rescued. That’s a scary story I’ll tell one day with pictures. But guess what? The fire department will not come and rescue a cat trapped in the top of a tree like they do in the movies.
The only time I saw her panic with another animal, though was when a black bear peered in our bedroom window while she was lying next to me in the bed. She swelled into a huge ball and began to growl and slap the closed window so hard I thought she would break it. The bear must’ve felt threatened, for it left.
So you can understand how I felt for my friend when I learned her cat had died. Keep the memories close, for they will remain with you always.
I did my best to get a picture of Bobbi here but my life does not include understanding all the new crap on computers. I was lucky to get this published, or did I>?
To read Jan’s blog go here: https://janmorrill.wordpress.com/2020/06/30/farewell-to-the-grumpy-cat-who-loved-the-best-she-co