Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a big yellow cat named Abner. He
was an indoor/outdoor cat with access to the basement through a pet door. He
was occasionally allowed into the living quarters of the humans, but for most
of his indoor time, he was exiled to the basement and garage, from which he
could come and go through a pet door.
Then one day Abner was gone. We watched anxiously for his return, but as days
turned into weeks, we finally reconciled ourselves to the fact that he was gone
for good. Then about six months after his disappearance, while doing a bit of
gardening in the front yard, I got the strange feeling I was being watched.
Looking around, I saw Abner sitting across the street at the edge of the woods,
just staring at me.
I called to him, and he came instantly. I scooped him up and ran into the
house to show my wife that the prodigal had returned. We showered him with
attention and kept him inside for a couple of days. Then there came a knock at
the door. Neighbors from four houses away were canvassing the neighborhood
looking for their missing big yellow cat.
To make a long story short, he had become a regular visitor to their house.
Since he had no collar, they assumed he was a stray, and they fed him canned
cat food, which he didn't normally get from us, and allowed him to sleep on the
"people" furniture. It was clear he soon came to prefer the cushier
accommodations and the fancier cuisine, so he just moved in with them. They
were understanding and readily relinquished any claim his six-month visit might
have given them and bid him farewell.
For the remaining 14 or so years of his life, we literally bribed him not to
leave us again. He lived in the humans' quarters, actually refusing to go into
the basement at all, got a canned cat food every day, slept wherever he
pleased, went in and out anytime he felt like it, and basically ruled the
roost. Every time I opened a tin of Nine Lives or stood by the door to grant
ingress or egress, patiently waiting as he took his sweet time deciding if he
really wanted in or out, I knew we had become the victims of extortion and that
we had been outsmarted by a con cat.
But despite his criminal behavior, I don't think I ever loved a pet more, and I
held him as the final shot was administered when at last his kidneys failed and
there was no hope.
Here's a picture taken shortly after the little extortionist returned home.
For the rest of his life, he often had that smug, inscrutable,
I'm-smarter-than-you expression. And he probably was.
http://home.att.net/~hiwayman/wsb/html/view.cgi-photo.html--SiteID-725825.html
Sincerest condolences, Richard. Don't stop watching for Poof, because, like
Abner, maybe one day you'll look around and, poof! there she is.
Walt
--
"Anything more than 500 yards from
the car just isn't photogenic." --
Edward Weston
-------------- Original message from Richard Lovison : --------------
> Here's a photo of my cat Poof taking a snooze on the deck shortly
> before she left us. One night after going out at 8pm as she normally
> did, she never returned home. I sure miss her... I never looked at her
> as a pet, more as a friend that chose to share her life with me.
>
> http://people.simons-rock.edu/rlovison/poof2.jpg
>
> OM4t, Vivitar Series 1 90-180/4.5 flat field zoom, Fuji NPS
>
>
==============================================
List usage info: http://www.zuikoholic.com
List nannies: olympusadmin@xxxxxxxxxx
==============================================
|
