New Intruder

This is a piece i wrote 19 years ago that I found when I was sorting through old files. A few months after Lulu’s arrival, Annie decided to join us as well, and although both of the kittens   have now joined Bear in that great scratching post in the sky, I enjoyed reading this story after so many years, so perhaps you will, too.

Click on photos to enlarge and read captions.

New Intruder

My closet rattles. One door is slightly ajar. Something is being batted about on the floor inside. A paw is visible now and then when it comes close to the bottom edge of the door. Once a nose with white whiskers peeks out, then shoots back in like a jack-in-the-box.

My tiny new kitten was a street waif. She arrived complete with sticky streaks on her underside and chin. She arrived with fleas and one sore eye–– the green one. The other eye is blue. There is a perfect fish outlined in white on a charcoal colored patch on her back. Her very long ears are a pale peach color and her head is big on an extremely thin body. Already after 4 days, she is starting to acquire a small pot belly from regular meals. The vet says she is four weeks old, but her body is so tiny and weightless that she seems more like a large mouse than a cat. I fear stepping on her and in fact have, but when I did, she made not a peep and her bones seemed to spring back like a sponge.

Her long eye whiskers were singed back almost to hair level in an unfortunate encounter with the gas burners on my stove. She is so fast that she leaped up on the counter before I could stop her. In similar fashion, she had walked across the bubble wrap jacuzzi cover that floated on the top of the water, so light that she made it from one side to the other without sinking. Another time, she leaped from the back of a chair to the top of the high metal display case, where her claws made little ingress into the metal and where for a few seconds she clung from the edge like a mountain climber before falling to the tile floor five feet below. Five minutes later, her head peeked up from the opening at the top of the lampshade of the lamp on the telephone table. This house is her new world, and she is the Magellan of cats.

Two weeks before, I had found Bear, my cat of 15 years, floating lifeless in my pool. It was horrible. I had seen the cat born and his burial seemed a reversal of the birth process. We buried him in the garden wrapped in his favorite silk sari from the end of my bed, and with the mouse-shaped doorstop he loved to bat around the house. I buried with him my intention not to have any more pets for a while. None could replace him.

Then, two weeks later, a mouse had streaked across the street in front of me and entered the store I was about to enter. Upon closer examination, the streak had been a tiny kitten that had leaped into a huge display basket of scarves, and it hadn’t taken too much encouragement by the shop owner to get me to promise to stop back by before we left that night to see if the kitten had been claimed by an owner or adopted by someone more determined to have a cat than I was.

Every animal I’d ever had in my life had come to me by accident or by its own volition, so when this placeless cat appeared, I had by habit accepted the karma and now she sleeps each night on my chest or on the pillow by my right ear. I am slightly allergic to her, and although she doesn’t flinch when I cough and sneeze, when I get up for a drink of water, she miaows. This word perfectly describes the sound she makes. She is loud. The sound of her echoes through my high-ceilinged brick and stucco house. “ Miaow, miaow, miaow, miaow,” but somehow it seems to belong here––to fill out the silence that might otherwise only be filled by the sounds of the television or the computer or the stereo––sounds that do not breathe or jump up to the arm of my chair or respond to a reassuring pat or the sound of the can opener. With the appearance of this newest little intruder, once again, my house has become a home.

This entry was posted in cats, Essays, Stories and tagged , , , on by .

About lifelessons

My blog, which started out to be about overcoming grief, quickly grew into a blog about celebrating life. I post daily: poems, photographs, essays or stories. I've lived in countries all around the globe but have finally come to rest in Mexico, where I've lived since 2001. My books may be found on Amazon in Kindle and print format, my art in local Ajijic galleries. Hope to see you at my blog.

8 thoughts on “New Intruder

  1. Mister Bump UK

    Yes, it was very enjoyable. I too had a relationship with a cat, and when he died, I swore: “never again”. I too went back on it (involuntarily), and now have a relationship with another cat which is just as good as with my old friend. I did think that the subject – never say never – would be a good post one day.
    I know now that I will always have cats. My will gives everything to an animal charity, provided they look after the cats after I go.

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    1. lifelessons Post author

      My sister and brother-in-law set up a trust for the animal shelter as well. They’ve never had a cat, oddly, but he encourages neighbors’ cats to visit and when Bearcat died, they donated cat carriers to a local shelter and had plaques put on them that said “In memory of a sleek gray cat named Bearcat.”

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  2. SAM VOELKER

    Most of us, in the sadness of a death, have said “never again”~! But we are always taken in by the love and freakishness of another; bringing more love into our home. Just this morning before daylight Coco was driving me crazy with her very loud Siamese yells, and Tami was kicking me in the ribs … Then I realized that Eppie was not there and she was telling me she was outside and could not get in….. Open the cat door, Eppin, comes in, Coco stops yelling and I go back to sleep with Tami licking my hand~! They seem not to pay any attention to each other most of the time, but when one of the three are missing, the others act up.

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    1. lifelessons Post author

      Kukla has taken to jumping up on the wooden bookcase that forms the headboard of my bed and batting at the ball and chain on the lamp pulls there, invariably knocking the lampshades off and knocking the lightbulb holder off the top so it hangs horizontal. Her toy.. Sometimes at 4 a.m. So I fall asleep at 2 a.m., get awakened at 4, do my blog, then go back to sleep at 6 or 8 and when Yolanda comes she thinks I’m a very lazy person, indeed.

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