CAT(S)
I like cats.
I’ve had six or seven in my life and enjoyed their playfulness and affection. I’ve had other pets and creatures: a dog, tropical fish, a rabbit, small turtles that usually disappeared and were later found dead in shoes in the closet, a horned toad, even a praying mantis. I haven’t had any pet since coming to Mexico. Nonetheless, I’ve talked often about having a cat. Obviously, too often because the other day Lupita said, “I have a friend who has three kittens she wants to find homes for. Do you want one?”
And like a fool, I said yes. I want two.
I once read that Rilke refused to have any pet because taking care of one would interfere with his writing. But anyone who’s read my books knows I’m no Rilke. I figured I was safe.
Immediately, I dashed off to PetCo and stocked up with all the things cats need: a litter box and litter, a scratching post, a nice soft bed and a pet door, which I had installed in the patio door. And food especially blended for kittens, which I later discovered, cats would rather die than eat.
Then, the following day, off we went to fetch the cats.
There were two males and a female. I wanted both males and had already begun to think of them as Castor and Pollux.
But one of the males had been given away by the time we arrived and what we got instead was Bonnie and Clyde.
The owner stuffed the two in a cardboard box and, accompanied by pitiful weeping (One of the cats. Not Lupita), we drove home.
Out on the patio, I opened the box and the female, white with gray markings on her head, shot out of the box, dashed over to the storage cabinet and hid under it. The male, (a nice gray and white) perhaps admiring his sister’s leaping ability, stared at me for a second, then jumped out and disappeared behind some potted plants.
Hoping to calm the female down, I cornered her and picked her up. In total panic, she did her best to shred my wrists and escaped. After stopping the bleeding and silently cursing the little monster, we managed to catch the male and take him indoors, where he tucked himself under a sofa. Thinking I’d wait for the female to calm down before another attempt to catch her, I left her to her own evil thoughts and went inside. After a reasonable (human) amount of time, I went back to the patio to check on her.
She was gone. Our patio is enclosed by 10 foot walls. Somehow, she’d managed to scale them.
She’ll be back for another try at my wrists, I thought. To get something to eat. Or to say goodbye to her brother. Give her time.
She didn’t return.
That night, her brother began crying. Endlessly.
Neither Lupita nor I could sleep and both of us got up and tried to calm the kitten down. Didn’t work. He outlasted us until, exhausted, he scampered off to hide and sleep.
The following morning. Still no female. And no male. We have a fairly small house and we searched the entire place and could find no sign of him.
It wasn’t until mid-afternoon when Lupita heard a faint cry, that she found the kitten in a closed drawer. How he got in is a total mystery. But once out, he scampered off and hid again.
That evening, Lupita discovered that the female had returned and was perched on a wall overlooking the patio. We caught the male and decided to put him outside. Maybe the female would get down somehow and join him and they’d both relax a little.
It seemed to work. No crying. Lupita and I got some much needed sleep.
The following morning, I went outside to check on them.
Gone.
Both of them.
At mid-morning, I heard crying coming from the wall at end of the patio. I climbed a ladder and discovered the male. He had gotten inside the neighbor’s laundry room and was stuck between metal bars, crying his heart out.
No sign of the female.
By this time, I guess he was reconciled to being rescued. Or was just too weary to resist. I managed to drag him out from between the bars and carry him into the house, where he cried a little more before running off to hide.
But he’s safe inside.
Somewhere.
And I guess I have a cat. One. Maybe.
Sigh.
I’m beginning to understand Rilke.