The Enigma
I don’t know about you, but I grew up with animals. Like, a lot of animals. We didn’t quite run a farm (on account of living in a duplex in southern California) but you guys, we had a lot of animals.
At one point or another, our family cared for and sheltered the following:
Two ball pythons
Two Iguanas
Four lovebirds
Two hamsters
Countless rats (to feed the snakes)
So many mice. So very, very many mice
A flop-eared rabbit
Three dogs
So many cats (lot of coyotes in southern CA, and we didn’t really cotton to the idea of keeping cats indoors against their will. Hence, we went through a lot of cats and loved them all dearly)
Fish. At one point, my Dad had a tropical fish collection, including a Lion Fish that stung him once and sent him to the hospital. The rest of our fish were considerably less exotic. Mostly Betas, a few goldfish, those sucker fish that eat the algae off the sides of the tank, a few salamanders, that sort of thing
(You’ll note in that list, by the way, the distinct lack of a horse, despite my repeated adamant insistence that all I really needed to be happy in the world was a horse.)
Anyway, I’ve always found it odd that, despite my animal-centric upbringing, the only animal I’ve ever had as an adult was a dog named Doc (whose story, for the uninitiated, it quite sad). It’s not that Wes and I don’t like animals, it’s just that we’ve lived in a rental house for the last four years and our lease is quite clear: No animals.
Spoiler alert: The cat was not content to stay outside for long.
Enter the cat. Our first meeting with the cat was last week, when this huge orange cat suddenly appeared on our back patio. He stared at us through the window, watching the kids and twitching his tail, and then hopped the fence and left. I thought nothing of it. “It’s a neighbor’s cat,” I thought. “No big deal.”
The cat came back the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. Every day for a week this cat came back, and every time was the same: He’d sit there and watch us through the window, flicking his tail and occasionally meowing.
One day, at my son’s request, I let him open the door to say hi to the kitty. Fully expecting the cat to dash away (for outdoor cats are notoriously skittish), this cat strolled right in as though he had been living here for years. He took a moment to familiarize himself with the layout, let the kids pet him, and then plopped right down on the carpet for a quick bath.
We left the door open and after a little while, he showed himself out, only to come back later that night for another visit, and so forth and so on. The other day, he curled up on my lap while the kids were asleep and took a nap.
I’ll be honest: Despite my many years of cat ownership, I’ve never seen a cat do this before. He tolerates the kids and he’ll let Wes pet him, but mostly he wants me. He follows me around the house, purring up a storm, and seems to love any and all affection I give him.
He’s an enigma. I’m pretty sure he’s neutered, and he seems well fed and cared for, but I’ve never, in my life, had a cat just decide it wanted to be with me. Pretty flattering, if you think about it. But baffling.
Who is this cat? Where did he come from? And most importantly: How long before he tears up my couches and I have to kick him out for good?
