title goes here
" THE CAT CAME BACK "
This story really happened, though if I were hearing it myself, I
might find it pretty strange, indeed.
My youngest brother, Christopher, was born when most of us were
making plans to leave home.
By the time Christopher was two or three, he was the only child
left at home. And then there was the cat, Fuzzy was his name. He
was Christopher's cat, and he loved to be dragged around, have his
ears twisted, and most of all, he immensely enjoyed having his
tail pulled. Eventually, our mom figured out that what this silly
animal loved best, was to be picked up at the base of his tail,
and held up, high in the air. And would he purr at this! He'd
hang there, limp as could be, purring all the while, as long as
one could stand to hold him up. He was a very large, black Persian,
with SIX toes on each paw. He was very much an outdoor cat, and
very popular with the ladies, for blocks around. Other males learned
to keep a comfortable distance, when this tom was out and about!
The more time this creature spent outdoors, the less he wanted to
be inside. He'd come in when he was hungry, and of course for some
much needed affection, and a good tail-hanging from the humans. A
good romp and wrestle with the family poodle, and Fuzzy would be
at the door, yowling to be released back into the feline world.
Not surprising, he stopped coming home altogether. Christopher
mourned the loss of his beloved kitty. I'd had children of my own
by this time, and when Fuzzy would be out roaming, he would seem
to sense there was some extra attention to be had, and he'd always
make an appearance. Not anymore. Everyone missed this big, black
ball of fur, including the dog, as they'd been raised together.
Even the neighbors noticed ( rather happily, of course ) that Fuzzy
wasn't into their gardens.
Six months passed, without so much as a glimpse of Fuzzy. We
would quietly speculate ( so as not to upset the children ) on his
demise. What could have happened? He had always been street-smart
and wary of traffic, though perhaps this time, not wary enough. He
was very docile around humans, but out-of-doors, he'd be the toughest,
meanest cat for miles. In time, we conversed, less and less
about Fuzzy, and accepted the fact that he was gone.
Our mother had a lovely garden, and spent many hours and days ten-
ding it to perfection. One particular morning, as she headed out
to prune, she was startled to see, sitting on the back fence post,
a familiar sight.
"YOWL!!" was his greeting, and he proceeded to sit on that post,
licking and preening himself, as Mom called to him, and walked
slowly towards him. "YOWL!!" again, likely meaning, "So nice to
see you again!" And off he went. Just like that.
My parents eventually ended up moving to a new home a few blocks
away, bringing with them, a new kitten they'd acquired. Their home
was never too long without a cat or two. The new cat was a pretty
little calico, also an indoor-outdoor cat, and very difficult to
put up with come mating season! So out she goes! A lot of male
cats had been sighted around the house. An elderly next door
neighbor mentioned seeing a big, black, tough-looking tom wandering
about in his yard a couple of times. We wondered if it could
be Christopher's Fuzzy, but since none of us had actually seen him,
we couldn't be sure.
By and by, the pretty little calico ended up expecting a litter
of kittens. Christopher was elated, and couldn't wait to share
this exciting bit of news with his classmates. We all discussed
what these little kittens would look like, and which of us wanted
a new pet. In time, the calico had her brood of five. Adorable,
mewling little critters they were !!
By the time the kittens reached three weeks old, I'd seen them a
couple of times, but hadn't yet made up my mind which one I'd like,
or even if I wanted another cat in my home at all.
My father mentioned hearing again, from the gentleman next door,
that he had seen, "that big, black, hairy tom," lazing about in
his garden. His third sighting. Still, we had not seen him.
"Dad," I said, "do you suppose maybe Fuzzy could be the father
of these kittens ?"
"Well," he said, "it sure sounds like it's possible, from what
the neighbors are saying, though no one's gotten close enough to
get a look at his paws, to know for sure. We'd know if we saw him,
if it was him. But," he said, "look at those kittens. None of
them are the right color, for Fuzzy to be the father."
I was thinking he was probably right.
Well, the kittens got old enough to be held by the humans, except
for the little runt, which had been starving, the poor thing, and
had been bottle-fed from the start. I was over with my two little
ones, and we were all taking turns holding the wee ones, under the
watchful eye of their mom. I have this thing that I do when I'm
holding someone's baby, or a puppy, or whatever. I am simply in
awe at their tiny little fingers, or paws. So on this day I'm
holding these kittens, admiring their perfect little paws. I've
held all, except one. I reach for him, and as I'm bringing him
close, I put his two little front paws upon my pointer finger. As
I'm doing this, it occurs to me that this little fellow has SIX
toes!!
And by the way, Fuzzy... was never seen, or heard of, again.
- THE END -
COPYRIGHT 1996 Deana Lynn Latta
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