HERB BENHAM: Finding the next cat while the current tabby is on life 8
| Monday, Nov 21 2011 03:14 PM
Last Updated Monday, Nov 21 2011 03:16 PM
At first, I thought it was Callie. She was the same size with similar markings, a gray tabby cat with black stripes.
Callie, our cat, is 18. She came to us as a stray, delivered by a friend who found her in a flowerbed at the Elk's Lodge. Like many strays, she has worked her way into the fabric of our lives as well as the fabric of the sofas and beds on which she sleeps.
I picked up the new cat and realized she wasn't Callie because she was smaller and thicker. Her meow sounded the same, but other than the occasional hoarse meows I've heard from some cats, I'm not sure I could tell one meow from another.
I say "she." I don't know if she is a she, but it would be convenient if she were.
Callie is slowing down. She's sleeping a lot these days. That's not saying much because cats are well-rested to begin with, but Callie sleeps on our bed eight hours at night, then continues after we get up. When we come home, she's still curled in a ball.
It's as if she's husbanding her energy for the walk downstairs to get water and food and the occasional foray onto the roof.
Callie is thin, but her carriage is erect and she looks good for 18.
It's hard to tell whether she is going to leave us soon, but if she does, pursuing relaxation seems a graceful way to go. Sleeping her way into the next life. Very catlike. Big journey, minimum effort.
I am starting to think about these things because Callie has been a good cat. Not all cats are, though most are better than average. When they are good, the return on investment is high. Not much food, a small bowl of water and lots of pleasure. Callie's been worth every three-pound bag of Whiskas.
I'm starting to think about these things because I like having a cat and when she is gone, I will miss the warmth, the closeness and her scrutiny when I am doing exercises on the floor. She is good company. I miss her already and she's still here.
The word succession comes to mind and that's why when the Callie look-alike appeared on the front porch, it seemed like it might be pet destiny. This was an easy way to transition to the next cat. She was soft just like Callie, but maybe they're all soft. In a sometimes prickly world, the softness never gets old.
If Callie went to sleep and didn't wake up, we wouldn't skip a beat with Callie 2.
Surely Callie 2 belonged to somebody, but she didn't have a collar. She seemed hungry so I grabbed a handful of food and placed it on the porch. Before I released my fist and let go of the food, she was on it. I told Sue about the cat, but I didn't tell her about feeding it. That was a cardinal no-no.
A few hours later, Sue came into the backyard. I was working in the garden. She had a confession to make.
"I crossed the line," she said. "I gave the cat a bowl of food and a bowl of water."
How could you? Do you know what this means? I am shocked.
I didn't say anything. Sue couldn't hold out any longer than I could. I had hoped she was weakening because I was weak.
Every couple of hours, I looked through the window next to the front door to see if she was still there. She lay against the wall in the sun. Very Callie- like, it seemed. I knew I was reaching, but I was reaching for something good.
That night Callie 2 vanished. She left the two plastic bowls empty and askew. I hope she belongs to somebody. If she doesn't, the door is open for her homecoming.
These are the opinions of Herb Benham, not necessarily those of The Californian. Email him at hbenham@bakersfield.com
