1986-7 —- Aug. 17 2001
Dark Gray Tabby Cat
“If ever a cat there was there was,
if ever a cat there was,
There was a cat there was there was
if ever a cat there was.”
In the Spring of 1988 I moved into the little Dutch cottage behind
my Grandmother’s house. That winter had been spent largely in the
city near the hospital where my father lay terminally ill.
Mean while still in the winter of ’87 and early ’88 back at home
my grandmother was also in the local hospital suffering a heart ailment.
Our family tried as hard as we could to make it a happy Christmas that
winter of ’87. We all knew we’d be losing both of them soon.
I still remember that season of bittersweet joy and sorrow.
At the end of February my Grandmother passed away.
A few weeks later in mid-March my Father also left this earth.
Their deaths so close and so profound left me reeling and feeling such
a great unfathomable void where they once had been.
The cottage behind my Grandmother’s was vacant and belonged
to my aunt. She was living in Grandmother’s house and I welcomed the
chance to again spend time close to her-she was a very special gentle
and loving influence in my life.
She lived alone with her dog Skippy Jack a Schipperke
and jolly little fellow.
Before Christmas that year she had suggested to me
(probably foreseeing the loss I’d experience of the deaths pending) that
“Wouldn’t you like to have a cat?” Astonished I said
“No please please don’t get a pet for me I just don’t want the responsibility.”
I was a freelance artist and it was difficult making my way in the world
my schedule was overloaded just trying to keep up with deadlines.
Besides I cherished my freedom from concern the idea that I could just
pick up and go without answering to anyone was one of the things
about my life that I liked the most.
Shortly after Dad died I moved into the little Dutch cottage.
Then in April a few weeks later while sitting on my back porch in
the morning having coffee which was my morning routine
I heard it. It was a strange sound.
I didn’t recognize who or what creature could be making that noise.
It was like a howl like a roar. An eery sound.
I thought perhaps a raccoon?
Beyond the porch was a wide empty wooded lot all
overgrown with shrubs and trees.
A likely place I thought for a raccoon.
I heard that voice a few times more always in the morning
when I’d be out on the back porch.
I would always be stopped in my tracks so to speak when
that sound came.
I would strain to hear and try to figure out who/what was doing it.
Then one morning of a particularly special day I heard the roar again.
It was unusually close to the thick hedge of honeysuckle between
the two oak trees that closed in the space behind the porch
and served as a kind of green barrier between the
back yard and the vacant lot.
Then I saw a little face poke through the low underlying
leaves-and to my astonishment it was a cat!
She looked at me for a moment and then dashed off.
I recalled how she seemed to be the same cat that I had seen
scrounging around the garbage barrels a few times.
I went into the house and brought out a bowl of milk.
I laid it at the edge of the porch besides the stairs. I waited.
I felt she was watching waiting though I couldn’t see her.
I decided to go in the house and see if she’d come up to get the milk.
I closed the door behind me and tiptoed to the window where
I saw that in an instant she had emerged from the wood.
She put her little head down into that bowl and didn’t lift
it up until the bowl was empty.
Then just as quickly she sprinted back behind the thick shrubbery.
For about a week I put food out there for her on the porch,
in the morning. I had made a trip to the supermarket and bought a
number of different cans and boxes of cat food.
But she wouldn’t come to get it until I was inside the house
away and out of sight.
Then one sunny day she came to greet me
in the front yard where I was weeding and preparing
the garden beds.
She walked up to me wagging her tail and leaned forward in a stretch
somewhat shyly but definitely friendly in purpose.
I started to pet her which she graciously allowed and to talk
to her and sort of play. At that moment my neighbor David
coming out of his condo saw us and walked up to me and said
“I can’t believe it! That’s Napoleon Richard’s cat!” I said
“Who is Richard?” He said “Richard used to live in your cottage.
He and his roommate had a loud argument the day they were moving,
and the cat disappeared and they couldn’t find it and had to
leave without the cat.”
“Where’s Richard now?” I asked.
“He lives in P’town now,” he said,”I was going up to visit this weekend-
I’ll tell him Napoleon is here and maybe I can bring the cat back to him.”
I was puzzled by my reaction because I had a sense of relief-but
also sadness. OK maybe I still wasn’t slated to be a pet-owner
but this little creature had awakened something in me and though it
was just the tiniest bud of recognition I felt something stirring inside.
However the thought of reuniting the cat with it’s rightful owner
appealed to my better judgment so I promised to keep an
eye on her until the following weekend.
That evening I went out to visit friends and returned in the midst of a
heavy downpour of rain at about 10:30 pm.
I parked the car and dashed out and as I was fumbling for my keys
I looked and saw that sitting on the cement stoop by the front door
looking up at me with the rain cascading all around her
was my little new friend.
She looked so pitiable I asked her if she would like to come in.
She was looking into my eyes.
I’d never had a cat before and didn’t quite know what to do-as she
slipped into the kitchen I wondered if she might be healthy or
not-perhaps she had fleas or something?
Her chest was shaped like a barrel I thought “Maybe she’s pregnant?”
and shuddered at the thought.
Once inside she gingerly stepped about and selected an old rocking
chair I’d inherited from my Grandmother and jumped up to
it’s cushioned seat. I filled the bathtub with warm water having
heard something once about fleas jumping off animals and
drowning in bath water.
I lifted her up and then placed her in the tub and poured the
warm water over her face and body.
I noticed one of her eyes had a little cloudy spot.
She clung to me with all her might. I think she may have been
afraid that I was going to drown her. The poor little thing!
The bath only lasted a minute or two.
I lifted her out and towel dried her which she seemed to like
and then set her free and gave her some food.
She ate and then retired to the rocking chair where she slept all night
and most of the next few days.
She wasn’t at all interested in the little toys and catnip I had picked
up for her. She just wanted to eat and sleep.
I made an appointment with a local Veterinarian to have
her checked out- I still knew nothing about her except that
she was very pretty a perfect sweet symmetrical face and very
soft silky fur that was striped like a tabby around her neck and legs,
but with a solid black streak that ran all the way down her back.
And she had an odd lopsided gait and her rib-cage stood
out prominently which gave her an unusually wide silhouette.
That’s why I thought she might be pregnant.
I didn’t know.
The next day at the vets she was very patient with both me
and the doctor. He told me she was a female
had been spayed so was not pregnant and was between one
and two years old. He checked her eye told me it looked like a tiny
scar perhaps from an encounter with another animal and
gave me an ointment but said not to worry-miraculously
I thought she did not have fleas.
But she did have tapeworm so we took the treatment for that,
which was a single pill.
As far as her wide rib cage there was no real explanation
but apparently it was just a unique characteristic.
I decided to call her Aurora mostly because Napoleon didn’t seem
a fitting name for such a pretty girl and also to commemorate the
“roar” she had first presented me with from the hedge
of the vacant lot.
Still I was preparing myself for the coming weekend when
David would come to get her to take her back to her original owner.
I even got a little bag to pack her new toys in and the leftover cat food.
Meanwhile we spent the week together me mostly watching her
and she mostly sleeping.
Saturday morning came around and I waited to see David emerge
from his house nearby. I packed her things and went upstairs early in the
morning hoping to get some work done in the studio before he came.
She was as usual asleep on the rocker.
Around 11AM I heard David’s car and I jumped up and raced downstairs
expecting to see him at the door. But he was backing out onto the street
and didn’t see me. “Strange,” I thought “Maybe he’s gone out for breakfast
or something and will come back for her later.”
I went back to work and again in the afternoon I heard his car approaching
(we lived facing the same little cul-de-sac) and ran down to greet him.
But before I got to him I heard his door slam shut behind him.
I walked over and knocked. No answer. I crossed the yard and went in
to see my Aunt to ask her if she knew David’s phone number.
She said “He has an unlisted number and he never gave it to me.”
I told her I had knocked several times to no avail.
She smiled and said “He never answers the door when he is at home.
I think he either can’t hear it or wishes not to be disturbed.”
I went back to my cottage and resumed my watch and my work.
I was downstairs in the kitchen having a cup of tea later in
the afternoon about five o’clock when I heard him emerge.
This time I was able to run out fast enough to catch him in time.
“David,” I said “I thought you were coming to get Richard’s cat today.”
“Oh right,” he said offhandedly “I’m sorry- I can’t go up there today,
maybe I’ll take the cat NEXT weekend.”
Something switched inside of me suddenly. I couldn’t help myself.
“Well,” I said “If I were Richard and someone called to tell me that my
pet who had been missing all these months was found,
safe and sound I wouldn’t be waiting for you or anyone else to
bring that pet to me I would have been there to retrieve her myself
within the hour no matter what.
So you do this will you? You tell Richard that this is MY cat now
and if he has any problem with that he can call me and we can
argue about it. And her name is Aurora not Napoleon.
You tell him I said that.”
Then I went in the house where Rory was still on the rocker,
just yawning from her nap and I looked at her and I said
“You’re gonna be mine now OK? You’re gonna be Aurora and
you’re always going to be with me from now on OK?”
Richard never did call.
That was the beginning of thirteen wonderful years of close
companionship and great love.
It seemed it was OK after all. She needed me and I needed her.
She gave me a focus a never questioning love and
a great deal of mischief and fun.
She was so pretty and very very smart and soft and nice.
She was my little angel who went with me wherever
life and career took us.
We moved four times in our life together.
She was always with me no matter what.
The last time we moved we moved back home.
This time we moved to the big house my Grandmother’s
house at the front of the compound.
My aunt was very sick and we stayed with her until she
passed away a year ago.
But we were home again and still had each other as we had
from the beginning.
My Aunt also grew to love Rory and I sense that she was there
to take her up and help her through and
watches over her now.
Now that Rory is gone from the physical world I won’t
be moving again.
My roots are firmly planted and so is a beautiful rose bush
in the garden over her resting place.
Now she is I hope and want to believe
a perfect little angel in heaven.
Kathi Bloom
| Aurora {Rory} |