By Kay & Shadow Luckett
Last Fall, I opened my front door and there stood Annie. She was just getting ready to knock because she had just trekked over from Cottonwood to bring me a treasured gift which she lovingly held in her arms.
A non-cat lover might guess that it was a cat but it was definitely not a cat because a cat would not be serenely cuddled in anyone’s arms standing in a strange hallway ready to knock some on a strange door.
What Annie brought to me was her copy of Caleb Carr’s My Beloved Monster, a book which is essentially about his cat whom he said had rescued him. But that does bring up the eternal question about someone who says they refer to their pet as a rescue: Who rescued whom?
This is Annie’s story.
I had never been around cats until I divorced in 2006 and rented a small log cabin with an outdoor shed where I lived in Idaho. The house I lived in was too small for both a washer and dryer, so the dryer was in that shed.
I saw a black and white tuxedo cat going in and out of a hole on the outside wall of the shed. I set up a bed for her inside the shed when the season was changing and it started getting the Idaho very cold weather.
I didn’t know if she belonged to anybody and thought she might need some food and water. What I didn’t know was that when you feed a stray cat, that cat becomes yours. Or, to put it more accurately, you belong to the cat and become its forever home.
I came down with a serious case of bronchitis and was too weak to go in and out of the house to the shed. I decided to let the kitty come in only while I was sick. She decided otherwise.
She happily established herself as an indoor only cat.
At first I thought she was male and named her Mister Billings. When I learned he was a she, I renamed her Pat the Cat after a character on Saturday Night Live.
A neighbor later told me that Pat the Cat had lived with previous renters two years earlier. When they moved, they left her outside to fend for herself in a trailer park behind the house.
She had tried to get back into the house several times before I rented it over those two years, but had to settle for the shed.
Pat lived to be eighteen years old and taught me a lot about cats, mainly patience and acceptance. When Pat was about five, I adopted a seven-month-old kitten because I decided Pat needed a friend. Again, she thought otherwise.
Begrudgingly, she did accept Chi Chi but the two were never affectionate with each other, nor did they play together. I think Pat had had such a difficult life in that trailer park for the two years she was on her own that she didn’t care for the idea of potential competition.
This brings my story almost up to date with Nala Sue, who is my current cat—not just a cat, but THE cat.
I had to have Pat and Chi Chi euthanized within months of each other in 2021. That was horribly painful so I decided I was never going to have another pet.
Three months later, I couldn’t tolerate my empty house anymore and went to the humane society. There, they put an eight-month-old gray Tabby in my arms, and she immediately fell asleep. I thought, “Now I finally have a cuddler.”
That’s the last time she ever did anything like that.
They warned me that she might be a little bashful and withdrawn when I got her home. Those behaviors never happened.
She immediately ran to the litter box and did what she needed to, then explored every facet of my house, including a very tall book case.
My first two cats never jumped on any surfaces where they weren’t allowed, especially the kitchen and bathroom counters. So much for that with Nala. She took over our home and moved straight into the middle of my heart.
Nala Sue does not really like to be picked up, but when I bring her in from the backyard she lets me carry her back into the house without a problem. I take advantage of lovey-dove stuff then.
She likes to eat her nibbles throughout the day on my bathroom counter, which is supposed to be out of bounds. But Nala gets what Nala wants and this scenario goes on everyday, and everyday is a good day with Nala Sue.
Meow.
