A CAT NAMED SIGGY

By Mary Kennedy                                             

I saw this great graphic on Instagram and thought it might make a fun topic for a blog. Almost all the mystery writers (and mystery readers) I know love cats, so it's usually a popular topic on the links and on social media sites.
Everyone has their favorite cat stories, some funny,some touching. I've had many cats over the years and one of my favorites involves a large black tuxedo cat named Siggy. All my cats are rescues, by the way, so I'm never really sure how old they are, but I think he was about six when I adopted him. He was an amazing cat and always reminded me of The Cat That Walked By Himself.
                                                                        
There was something a little aloof and independent about him; he wasn't a lap cat or a cat who liked to be cuddled. He loved to "hang out" with his humans, always keenly observing. He looked like a highly intelligent cat although I have no way of knowing for sure. He was definitely a survivor.
At one point in his life, he belonged to some college students. His favorite foods were fried chicken, pizza and spaghetti. I quickly changed him over to a more healthful diet.
                                                                              
He was very sensitive to my feelings and moods. One day when I had just come back from the vet I was sitting at the kitchen table, heart broken. I had to have my beloved Lucky put to sleep. I had found her in a vacant lot, emaciated and eating paper, many years earlier. 
 I was on my way to a job interview and stopped traffic as I jumped out and rescued her. She ran right over to me and started crawling up my leg into my arms. She knew I was there to help her! Very unusual. If I hadn't made a wrong turn in a rough part of town, I never would have seen her. Sometimes things are just meant to be.                                                                                 
 So after coming back from the vet, I sat at the kitchen table crying, trying to pull myself together and to my surprise, Siggy jumped up on the table and put his forehead against mine. I was getting his fur wet with tears but he didn't seem to mind. I'm sure he knew I was distressed and wanted to comfort me. He stood there for a long, long time. Every once in a while, he would pull back and look at me with such a sad expression. He knew his human was heart broken.  And I knew he wanted to help.                                                                              

Siggy loved to nap on the sun porch with the other cats. He was never aggressive with them and seemed to think that this was "their" home and he was the newcomer.
He became terribly ill and we never really knew the cause, even after dozens of tests. We finally took him to the vet school at the Univ of Penn in Philly. They admitted they were stumped too and that Siggy was going downhill. The vet said gently, "If this were my cat, I wouldn't put him through any more tests. I would take him home and love him and let him go gently." Good advice, even though it wasn't what I wanted to hear.
I'm sure you have some cat stories to share and please do! I love to hear them.
Mary Kennedy (and the Kennedy cats)