I live at the end of a mile long country road, which is also
where I grew up. Where it was mostly us and a two-hundred acre farm, my
parents, grandparents, cattle, horses, cats, dog, and whatever other varmints
would occasionally appear or pass through.
I moved back not too long ago. Living there is how I found
my cat, Delilah, who appeared in our window around eleven years ago. It’s also
how my parents got both of their cats. One was a rescue stray that was almost
starved to death that we nursed back to health. The other was a kitten of a cat
that appeared around the same time as my cat. The end of the road is popular
for drop offs of all kinds.
Recently another cat has happened by. He was wild and mean,
and wouldn't let anyone near him. I could hear the catfights when our cats got
near him. After a few weeks, he appeared on my porch and I sat near him, still
and not moving until he came near me and let me pet him. He head-butted me and
rubbed against me like an old friend. Until I moved, when he quickly attacked
and bit my hand! I still have vampire like marks on my palm. I started leaving
food out and he waits for it morning and night. Anytime I look outside. He’s
there, staring me in the eyes.
Last weekend, he got into a fight with Patch, my parents’
cat. My father set out a cage trap and caught my wild cat, who I now look
forward to seeing every day. It was heartbreaking to see an animal so terrified
about being caught in a trap, but I didn't want our pets hurt either. Dad took
him away and let him out near a farm he knew had other barn cats.
That was two days ago. Last night I came home to find a big,
black tom cat waiting happily and hungrily on my porch. Part of me is jubilant
and yet my heart aches. For so little as some dry food, a spot on my porch, and
some petting, this kitty was willing to walk MILES to come back to me. Animals
are such amazing, loving, and loyal creatures.
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