I have seven children and a cat.
It you were to whistle over my responsibilities, it probably would be over my number of offspring. It certainly wouldn't be because of my cat. Cats are supposed to be easy to care for, unlike children, husbands or even dogs. And most cats are, except ours.
He's got ants in his pants, the urge to roam or miles to go before he sleeps. His gallivanting never created a problem until recently, when our kitty got into the car of a guest who was leaving my across-the street neighbor's bridge party.
Luckily, Maureen saw the kitty staring out the car window as the lady drove away. She ran into the house to report this news to her Dad and Grandma. As they were deciding what to do, Maureen ran upstairs and came down holding her rosary beads and a picture of Augie-that's the kitty's name.
Grandma tried to console her by saying "Don't worry, Maureen, cats always find the way home again," to which Maureen responded between sobs, "But Grandma, he can't even read our address."
In the meantime our neighbor, Jean had called the guest, who had arrived home, discovered her extra passenger and let him out of the car. She thought he was the neighbor's cat and had ridden to the party with her.
Maureen and John drove over to the lady's home with plans to search her neighborhood, but they found the kitty right away, in her garage on top of the garbage cans.
One Sunday, the kitty was playing in the front yard. A short time later he was gone. At first, I wasn't concerned. He had run off before and made it back to the house. But when it got dark, I started worrying a bit. The kitty didn't come back all night.
In the morning I called the Humane Society, two radio stations report lost pets and the vet's office and asked my neighbors to watch for him. Then I drove around to look for him, but had no luck.
By 3 o'clock I was feeling pretty low. I dreaded the scene when the kids came home from school and learned the kitty was still missing. I wondered what had happened to him. Did he get hit by a car? Did a big cat or dog get him? Where did he sleep last night? Did he get cold?
Then the phone rang. A lady on the line said she had gotten our number from the Humane Society.
"Do you have my cat?" I asked.
"Well, if he's less than a year old and is orange with a white chest, I do. Last night I discovered him in our garage, and when he was still there this morning, I figured he was lost."
After I brought Augie home, I called the vet's office. We had decided it was time to surgically take care of his wander-lust tendencies before he wandered in front of a speeding car.
Augie must have known what was in store, because he disappeared again the next day, despite my attempts to keep track of him. That evening Patrick and I searched all around the neighborhood, without success. Later that night, our doorbell rang. Kelly, our neighbor's daughter from two blocks away stood at the door holding Augie. She had found him in a garage. I wasn't surprised.
I later told a friend that the kitty was as much trouble as another child. He replied, "True, but the difference between the two is you have to keep the kids, but you could get rid of the cat."
That's the problem. I can't get rid of the kitty because I like him and I would miss him. Even if he needs to go on an adventure a day, I know that in his heart he feels, "There's no place like home," if he can only find it.
Now that he wears a collar and tag with his name and address, maybe he will have better luck.
March 26, 1986
It you were to whistle over my responsibilities, it probably would be over my number of offspring. It certainly wouldn't be because of my cat. Cats are supposed to be easy to care for, unlike children, husbands or even dogs. And most cats are, except ours.
He's got ants in his pants, the urge to roam or miles to go before he sleeps. His gallivanting never created a problem until recently, when our kitty got into the car of a guest who was leaving my across-the street neighbor's bridge party.
Luckily, Maureen saw the kitty staring out the car window as the lady drove away. She ran into the house to report this news to her Dad and Grandma. As they were deciding what to do, Maureen ran upstairs and came down holding her rosary beads and a picture of Augie-that's the kitty's name.
Grandma tried to console her by saying "Don't worry, Maureen, cats always find the way home again," to which Maureen responded between sobs, "But Grandma, he can't even read our address."
In the meantime our neighbor, Jean had called the guest, who had arrived home, discovered her extra passenger and let him out of the car. She thought he was the neighbor's cat and had ridden to the party with her.
Maureen and John drove over to the lady's home with plans to search her neighborhood, but they found the kitty right away, in her garage on top of the garbage cans.
One Sunday, the kitty was playing in the front yard. A short time later he was gone. At first, I wasn't concerned. He had run off before and made it back to the house. But when it got dark, I started worrying a bit. The kitty didn't come back all night.
In the morning I called the Humane Society, two radio stations report lost pets and the vet's office and asked my neighbors to watch for him. Then I drove around to look for him, but had no luck.
By 3 o'clock I was feeling pretty low. I dreaded the scene when the kids came home from school and learned the kitty was still missing. I wondered what had happened to him. Did he get hit by a car? Did a big cat or dog get him? Where did he sleep last night? Did he get cold?
Then the phone rang. A lady on the line said she had gotten our number from the Humane Society.
"Do you have my cat?" I asked.
"Well, if he's less than a year old and is orange with a white chest, I do. Last night I discovered him in our garage, and when he was still there this morning, I figured he was lost."
After I brought Augie home, I called the vet's office. We had decided it was time to surgically take care of his wander-lust tendencies before he wandered in front of a speeding car.
Augie must have known what was in store, because he disappeared again the next day, despite my attempts to keep track of him. That evening Patrick and I searched all around the neighborhood, without success. Later that night, our doorbell rang. Kelly, our neighbor's daughter from two blocks away stood at the door holding Augie. She had found him in a garage. I wasn't surprised.
I later told a friend that the kitty was as much trouble as another child. He replied, "True, but the difference between the two is you have to keep the kids, but you could get rid of the cat."
That's the problem. I can't get rid of the kitty because I like him and I would miss him. Even if he needs to go on an adventure a day, I know that in his heart he feels, "There's no place like home," if he can only find it.
Now that he wears a collar and tag with his name and address, maybe he will have better luck.
March 26, 1986
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