Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Old Guy's Rambling Remembrances #32



For most of my life, I have thought that the best way to treat a cat would be to catch it napping, and smash its head in with a rock. But lately, I have come to be somewhat fond of the obnoxious black critter we had to adopt because Christa “desperately” needed a puppy, and couldn’t have both.

Last Tuesday, when I was on my way home I had to stop on Country Club Road because the car in front of me had stopped for a very small kitten. After the little fellow scampered to the side of the road and the other car got out of the way, I noticed that the kitten was a bobcat. I found myself hoping that its mama was somewhere close around to look after it. Every day since then, I have kept my eyes peeled along that section of road, hoping not to find that he had made an unsuccessful attempt to cross the road. Willie is getting to be an old softie.

Back to the black pestilence. Gradually since the Fourth of July, with the help of
Christa, I have developed a portion of the front yard into what I first called my “Meditation Station”, then my “Serenity Stop”, and now most often my “Tranquility Base”. (My life is “relatively” mellow now, but I’ve had my moments of stress).

Every morning and evening the black beast and I will sit out there for a few minutes while I have a hot cup or a cold glass of tea, and savor the delicious peace of the trickling water, the gurgling splashes of the fish in the pond, the wind bells, and the soft fur of the black critter who always makes a point of being right under my free hand.

Last evening we were doing our serenity thing when I heard a strange and unusual noise which I couldn’t place. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, but I suspected the cat. I even put my ear down close, and found it wasn’t he.

It turned out to be the sound of raindrops falling down through the varnish trees and hitting the big leaves at various levels. After taking a few hits, we decided that no matter how lovely the gentle sprinkles were, neither of us wanted to get really wet, so we went our separate ways. I know, however, that we’ll get back together soon.



Rie Sheridan Rose said...

Lovely remembrance. He was a good ol' cat.

Willie C said...

Yeah, he was. It's a strange memory for a "non-cat" person. Even stranger the story of the "aftermath". We went to North Carolina to see our tiny little newest granddaughter, and he went to Dessau for a week's visit.

For whatever reason, he abandoned his temporary home before we got back. For more than a year, we optimistically expected him to show up at our door.

But, I suppose there were far too many obstacles and/or opportunities between here and Dessau.

It is said that polydactyl cats have a special appeal. Maybe he found a good home and is very happy there.