So, this guy made an appearance today. No, he’s not a stray. He actually lived here for several years before he moved out of our respectable household last summer and in with who I can only assume is a no account tart. The kind of woman who does not buy Friskies, but “Fancy Feast” and probably puts it in a little glass bowl for him, the showoff. I wrongly assumed that this was a summer affair, and that when cool winds blew in the fall, “King Ralph” as we affectionately called him for his regal, and deliberate walk and obvious disdain for the frequent bickering and dramatics that come with having two female cats in the house, would return with his tail between his legs, the blinders having come off by then, and the Fancy Feast money having long since dried up. Alas, I was wrong, apparently she knows how to treat her king, and keep him healthy and well fed, because he seemed to be both when he stopped by for a visit this morning.
He sat hautily on the deck, looking into the livingroom and demanded to be let in, as one does, when one is king. Stopping momentarily for an obligatory pat from his loyal subject, while she exclaimed and fawned over him, he continued on to the food bowl, while his fan traipsed after him, snapping pictures like paparazzi. Finding only Meow Mix, and concluding that nothing had changed, he sauntered back out, completely ignoring the cry of disapointment from the human, and with an annoyed twitch of his tail, he was gone.
He has returned in a similar fashion about six times in the last year and is gone within minutes. There appears to be no love loss; just a quick “booty call” for old times sake, and then, satisfied that he still has made the right choice, he returns to his new home and his new love, not a trace of wistfulness in his proud departure. If only he was the only feline to leave me, I might be able to bear it. However, some of my readers may remember that this has happened before, and the wound it left was far deeper. This is her story…
Her name was Mary, and she was as gentle as the name implied. She was pretty enough, but her confidence had eroded at an early age, when her four brothers and sisters, including an almost identical calico, had one by one, been plucked from their box, and taken away to new homes by smiling new parents. She thought her day would come, at least that’s what her mother told her, but it never did. The happy faces peering over the box, the sticky hands, smelling of chocolate, attached to little voices exclaiming, “I want that one, Mom” stopped when her last sibling, a precocious gray tiger was chosen. She had not been picked, and so, she stayed in the house where she was born. “At least my mother won’t leave me,” she thought. But, one morning her mother did not return from her hunting trip and she overheard the humans say, “It must have been that fox again.” Alone, in the world, except for the giant, furless humans, she became very fearful and sad, and spent many lonely hours in the picture window, looking at the huge world and feeling very sorry for herself.
The humans, especially the largest female one, spent a lot of time petting her and encouraging to sleep by her feet while she lay prostrate on the couch, reading a book. this was acceptable to Mary, and she grew to like and trust all the humans. The teenage female who always smelled like a horse was kind, and dragged a string for her to play with. The blonde male human, who was actually quite gentle even when his friends were around, would lift her up so that she could reach a fly. Even the largest male, who wore large clompy boots, did not mean any harm, and would often throw her pieces of ham while he was making a sandwich.
So, Mary grew to love her family, even though they had strange fur, and seemed to enjoy getting wet, and ate weird foods. She found she liked being the only feline, and spent hours hunting for them, which she deposited by the door every morning, even though they rarely appreciated her efforts and the large male human, often unceremoniously threw her hard-fought breakfast across the road by its tail. The years passed and so did the other felines that the humans insisted on bringing home. Mary did not care for kittens and refused to let other cats share her domain. Oh, she was smart enough to bide her time, and pretend to like and teach the kittens all that she knew, but really she was plotting their untimely demise. Three cats disappeared during Queen Mary’s reign. Dumb Mikey, the orange ball of fluff, Zipper, the hyper gray tiger and even Noah, as strong and tough as the neighborhood he came from, all disappeared. Mary, the sole survivor, a product of her traumatic childhood, had become “Bloody Mary,” and there seemed to be no end to her reign. Until Sam.
Sam was a scrappy black and white street tough, found by the now teenage blonde male, in the middle of the winter, down by the train tracks. The boy and his friends, wrapped the freezing kitten in his coat and carried her home. They pet her and fed her milk, and then they introduced her to Mary. Imagine Queen Mary’s surprise when this little ragged kitten hissed at her! Taken aback, and as any bully does when stood up to, she retreated. A new queen had arrived.
From that day on Mary was a different cat. She returned to her anxious and low self-esteem roots and was either outside, or when it was cold, sitting in the picture window, no doubt dreaming of her glory days. Sam grew bigger, stronger and tougher had earned herself the nickname, Sammy the Bull, due to her ruthless pursuit of rodents, birds and Mary. She hissed at her when she walked by, and chased her away from the food. Mary grew wan and sad, a shadow of her former self.
One day, the only female human in the house; the teenage one, having long since moved out after having her own litter of one, noticed that Mary did not return home for her treat, as she had every morning for eight years. She was worried, and she and “Boots” and the “blonde boy” looked and looked for her. They went up and down the street, fearing, but not really believing that she had been hit. They wondered if that old fox had gotten her, but no one believed that either, as Mary had outsmarted him twice before, even though it cost her a trip to Dr Wings and very nearly her tail. Her family knew she was smart and savvy even though lately she had not been herself. One day, the female human and Boots went for a walk, and suddenly, with a gasp, she saw her. There was Mary, looking at her from the neighbor’s picture window. Filled with jealousy (she), yet happy that she was alive (both), the humans went to talk to the neighbors. “Yes,” they said, “Xena” had come to their door a few weeks ago, and was a God-send, as their precious calico had recently died, and she was just what the old couple needed for company. Mary (Xena) was nowhere to be found during this exchange but no doubt breathed a sigh of relief when it was decided that she would be happiest there. And she was, although, sitting in the window, watching the female walk by, with a sad face every day was hard, her new life was everything she wanted. She was cherished, and coddled and the queen of her castle.
Two years passed; Sam grew, and when a tiger with double paws and a royal bearing came to live with them, she learned to accept “King Ralph.” They had a tacit understanding. She, that she was the boss. He, that he let her think that she was the boss. The couple lived in peace and harmony until one day, the blonde boy’s birthday, a little white ball of ego and fur showed up as a present for him. The little kitten hissed at Sam and immediately an agreement was reached, They would share the house, and Ralph, for his part, decided to talk to Mary about how to find another family. Using his royal charms, he sweettalked himself into the arms of another, and the female was devastated to realize that she had been cheated on, again. Of even sadder note, not having seen Xena in the window for a while, she asked Boots to inquire after her at the neighbor’s house, whereupon he brought back the sad news that Xena had died in her sleep the month before, curled up on a bed. The old couple was devasted and so was I.
That is my story of betrayal and loss, and one that I have been reluctant to share, particularly since Sam and Ralph have been spotted together of late, and I fear that she may leave now too. Will I be left again and be forced to see scrappy Sam in another ladies picture window? I hope not, but I will not be bullied into buying Fancy Feast. If Purina isn’t good enough for her, well too bad. At least the King still visits.
