A cat.

[icarus]

So, oh friends who are knowledgeable about cat politics, what would you advise my father? I've already sent my advice.

A Cat

This began quite innocently.

I've been playing the cat game for years, something I made up one evening's walk back when we lived in Alice, the house. Do you remember Alice? [Editor's note: Yes, my dad named his house "Alice." If you saw the house you'd understand.]

Toronto's beaches community is the kind of place that attracts cat people, and so there are cats prowling all over the place. Some are stand-offish, some gregarious, and others are total sucks. Never mind why, but on one evening's walk I made a game of it, counting two points for a sighting, five points for a touch, and seven if I could cause the cat to come to me and suffer my hand upon it. The record is somewhere under one hundred points.

Last week a very plump tortise shell cat wandered into our back garden and onto the deck. I did my usual cat talk and he (or she, or it) came right to me. I rubbed its head, stroked its ample sides and we had a most satisfying commune. A definite seven. The problem is, the cat won't leave.

It's a well fed cat. There are no signs of abuse or neglect. Good fur. No sense that this is a cat in need of a home.

As I said, we had a very nice visit, and I assumed that the cat would go home when I locked up for the night. Not so. Next morning, cat was still there. Annie didn't help at all, she let the cat in the house. Cat looked the entire place over and gave it it's complete approval. Eventually Annie had to put the cat outside. Note there were no frenzies involved, No hissing or scratching. Just very sad and disappointed cat sounds.

We left for a five day journey down the Hudson River Valley on an art, poetry and food break – one last treat before I become a temporary invalid. [Editor's note: My dad is going in for foot surgery.]

That should have been ample time to discourage any cat, but not this one. Still there, insistent. And the cat has a point: "Hey, you let me in before, why not now? What did I do? What did I say? Is there a problem? Let's talk. I can make some changes, lose a little weight. Come on! Don't just slam the door in my face!"

And now I feel terrible.

This is someone's cat. Why does it prefer to be here? Is it an abandoned kitty? What's going on?

What would happen if we took it in?

Is there any higher complement from the animal kingdom than being chosen by a cat?

Is this hubris of the highest order?

Why won't the cat go away?

All thoughts on the subject will be most welcome.

By the way, the cats name in our household is, Speckles. Because of it's most interesting coat.

I'll note he's already named the kitty.

Comments

[aphephobia.livejournal.com]

Okay, one suspicion I have is that it might be a recently-abandoned cat who was formerly cared for, but dumped for whatever reason. Maybe her (most torties are female, so I'm assuming here) owner died and the family members didn't like her, maybe she was a cute widdle kitten who just happened to grow up and the children she was bought for got sick of her, maybe her previous owners moved/went on holiday/split up/had a baby/any other number of reasons people decide to dispose of their pets. And plenty of them either feel too guilty about the concept of killing the animal- or taking it to a shelter- or can't be arsed finding a home for it through sensible means. They have this idea that it's somehow kinder to "let it back into the wild."

It would, at least, explain her healthy condition, and the fact that she's not terrified of people.

My grandmother's cat, Sylvi, chose my grandmother like that, too. The thing was, every year, a random adult cat would turn up in that street- they were usually in reasonably good condition, and weren't scared of people- and they turned up just before the holiday period in Australia. We suspect people were dumping them down one of the laneways- the street was populated with little old ladies who'd take them in. My grandmother wasn't really a cat person, but because my sister and I loved Sylvi, she took her in... and they had this funny "I love you but I'll pretend I don't" attitude towards one another.

[orca-girl.livejournal.com]

*nods* My mother lives on a resort island on the Jersey shore, and she has worked with local animal control regarding the feral cats in the area (whom, of course, she used to feed... and name...). They reported that a surprising number of people would either bring their pets on vacation, but abandon them; bring them, find the rental place wouldn't allow them, and turn them loose; or, let them roam around and not be able to find them when it was time to leave.

My current main cat is a completely friendly and loving cat who had been a kitten acquired by some univ. students at the start of an academic year, and then presumably either their parents refused to allow her to be kept, or (quite likely) they didn't want to go to the trouble to find a summer rental that would take cats (I know how hard it is! because I *did* it...), so they just turned her loose when they were kicked off campus, poor thing. And she made herself friendly at people on campus for the next three months, before my friend passed her one rainy day, and said, "If you're still here when I come out of this meeting, you are *so* getting rescued." And she was still there. :)

(I get angry thinking about her former owners having gotten to enjoy her being a kitten, when I didn't; and I can't fathom how they could abandon her. She's the best cat I've ever had. But I do reflect that if they hadn't, I wouldn't have her now, so...)

[lttledvl.livejournal.com]

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

When my friend's neighbors left their persian, their kitty showed on my friend's doorstep at dinnertime that day. He didn't give up until she let him in, he'd selected his new home right off the bat.

Icarus