County Cats

I used to have three questions concerning cats. First, why did some folks keep their cats outdoors instead of in? How could a nice fellow like my father-in-law have left a cat behind when he moved from Maryland to Pennsylvania? (I shook my head, aghast at the apparent heartlessness.) And finally, I wondered how anybody could end up with 57 cats? Well, the cats my family and I came across in the County solved these mysteries.

First came Timothy. Picked up on River Street for loitering, he soon found himself purring in a cage at the pound. We discovered him there and took him home, because a happy orange cat was exactly what I had been looking for.

And he really was a happy cat. Like a rag doll, he could be placed on his back, cradled in your arms, purring, perfectly content. He would let our daughter Courtney push him down the hallway in a stroller; he would chase moths and jingle balls throughout the house. He was a joy to have inside.

But one morning something went wrong by the litter box; I discovered an unpleasant object on the bottom of my slipper. Then too, Timothy had claws that needed sharpening, fur that needed shedding, and hairballs that needed upchucking. So we soon saw the wisdom in introducing him to the great outdoors.

After hiding under our old shed for three days, Timothy finally emerged, ready to forgive us for kicking him out, ready to face his new world. And soon enough he realized that there were certain benefits to being an outside cat. For one thing, those robins he had coveted from his perch on the windowsill were now within reach. He had adjusted nicely to his new life. Unfortunately, another upsetting event happened to our happy cat.

We decided to move, and—of course—we would take our cat with us. My husband managed to lure Timothy into a cardboard box, and I held the box on the 12-minute drive to the new place. I never heard so much clawing and carrying on! And I am convinced that toward the end of the trip, I heard him cry, “Mama!” I longed to open the box and set him free, but my husband advised against it.

Eventually Timothy forgave us for that, and he didn’t need to be boxed up for nearly two years. By that time, though, we also had a horse. So when moving day came, we figured we would haul Timothy those two-and-a-half miles by buggy—pulled by our horse, of course. But I guess Timothy didn’t like horses or buggies or the plastic tote my husband so lovingly shoved him in. By the time the lid was popped open, Timothy was ready to bolt. He ran and ran, looked back once to make sure no one was chasing him, and then he kept on running. We saw him on a couple of occasions after that, but he would never come near us again. I finally understood why my father-in-law had skipped the relocating of cats.

Other cats came along to fill the void. There was our orange and white kitten, Josephine, who should have been named Joseph as it turned out. He wasn’t the sharpest-clawed kitty in the litter; he would steal our dog’s food while he was within biting distance. He didn’t mind, but if Josephine had tried that with some other dog … So it was no surprise when one day that cat disappeared for good.

Later came Martha, then George. Next came four kittens—Albert, Polly, Buddy, and Ginger Ale. We had half a dozen cats and I could see that we were well on our way to 57. And as it turned out, all it took was Martha and a stray cat; George was too interested in food to bother with fatherhood.

More pig than cat, George would ignore you unless it was mealtime, or you happened to be sipping a cup of cocoa or a can of cola he wanted. But again we moved, leaving all six cats with the neighbors, avoiding both greedy George and the upcoming population explosion.

Those cats answered my few questions, but they also reminded me that being greedy and unforgiving are not endearing qualities. And yet, I still want to keep my naughty cats happy. There are several reasons for this. But perhaps the biggest one is what the poet Shelley understood so well: “When my cats aren’t happy, I’m not happy. Not because I care about their mood, but because I know they’re just sitting there thinking up ways to get even.”