Back On Track

So let's ignore the fact that I have written since June. It's not like during that time Sam was confirmed at church or Jake started a new school or Abby learned to ride a bike. For me the last few months are a blur of camps, vacation, school, homework, drama, chaos and occasionally a little order.

But leave it to me to come back to this blog with a cat story.

Years ago my neighbor found a black cat cowering in her garage. We eventually coaxed him out with food. He was a stunning cat, contoured and sleek, with a face and ears straight from an Egyptian hieroglyph. But he was a grouch. Feed me, look at me, but don't touch me. I named him Oscar.

Day after day we fed him and I came to expect that in the morning he'd be sitting on the side porch, waiting for a meal. On a few rare occasions I found him sitting in the kitchen. But I still couldn't get close to him. Maybe a pat across the back or a scratch on his ear but woe be the hand that touched his tail or his chin.

He slept in my neighbor's garage and under our house and was never gone for more than a day. Day after day became week after week then year after year. In the past few months, he started getting closer. A brush on the leg, a head butt, a heavy, full-body purr. Soon I could pick him up. He would sit in my lap for a moment. He wasn't grouchy, just stoic. And maybe, just maybe, I was earning his trust.

But whether it was illness or the wear and tear of being a lifelong stray, Oscar got sick. His leonine face got lean, his back haunches were so gaunt they couldn't hold him up anymore. We put Oscar in a carrier for the first and last time and took him to the vet. His kidneys were failing.

So we put him to sleep. He didn't resist, like he would've just months ago. He laid his head on my arm and purred. He actually never flinched or blinked.

We buried him in the backyard, under the flagstone he used to lay on when it was warm outside.

I have a dog, a guinea pig, fish and three other cats (and possibly a kitten), but I'll miss Oscar. Seeing him every morning was like going to the zoo and finding the lion leaning up against the glass, inches from you. Like being close to something beautiful that was still a little wild.