We had a scare over the weekend when our cat, Zsa Zsa, disappeared for a couple of days in the woods, leaving us to believe she was gone for good, most likely taken by a coyote or bobcat. It has happened to us before but that certainly doesn’t make the sudden loss any easier. Zsa Zsa came to us as a very young feral cat with absolutely no socialization with humans or their ways. Smart and athletic, she was a quick study and had turned into a great pet after breaking down our resistance to being attached to a creature that inevitably will break your heart. Luckily, this time she showed up two nights later, about 3 in the morning, a little frazzled but none the worse for her adventure. Our sadness suddenly turned to joy at seeing her.
This made me think about several of the cats who have passed through our lives, almost always just showing up and choosing our place to make their home. I wrote about the Boys a few years back and their story is a very bittersweet one to remember but an interesting one:
I came across a group of photos from a few years back that brought back very bittersweet memories. The photos were of a pair of feral cats that took up residence around our place along with a three legged raccoon that was in the vicinity for a short time. The cats tolerated the raccoon’s presence and they never seemed too upset when he helped himself to the food we put out for them.
The cats were an interesting pair. We called the tiger one Partner and the other Ben although we always called him simply Black & White. Partner and Ben were the Clint Eastwood and Lee Marvin characters from the movie Paint Your Wagon. The two cats had started coming to our place in the woods a few years before and came separately. Ben was super skittish and would never let you get close enough to touch him but hung around and came to understand when there was food available. Partner was more affable and approachable but he only came once in a great while, at which point ben would attack him and chase him away, off into the woods.
This went on for a year or so and we seldom saw Partner then one year, as a very bitter winter began to close in Partner came and made a stand. Instead of running away he held his ground against Ben. It was horrible. For a day or so, they were in what seemed to be non-stop combat outside our house. Under our house. Maybe on our house, I don’t know. There was thumping and screeching and all sorts of awful noise. We would try to intervene but they would run out of sight and pause for the time we out there then resume immediately after we went back inside.
The next morning when I put out some food for them, they both emerged. They were a mess with bloody cuts and scrapes on both. Yet they were together now with not a hint of malice between them. From that time on they were inseparable. They spent that very cold winter sleeping together in a makeshift box I had built for them, one on top of the other. When they would walk through the yard or up our walkway, they would walk in step with their shouldersshoved together as though they were joined at the shoulder. As spring and summer came, they would lazily sleep on our walkway, often spooning as they laid together with their legs wrapped around each other or would sleep facing one another, their paws lightly touching. When our female cat, Tinker, was outside, Partner would make attempts to be friendly but Ben wanted no part of her and, in an obviously jealous act, would aggressively push himself between the two. It was an amazing transformation from their previous animosity to this sweet friendship.
It was short lived however as they both passed away later that next winter, both disappearing with days of one another, obviously very ill. We’ve always regretted not being able to do more for them but through this time they never let us get too close to them, always being wary of any attempts to corral them. So when I see these photos I am torn between the sheer sadness of their hard fought existence and the absolute joy and comfort they had found in their love for one another. A rare thing indeed…
Redtree Times 