A few
weeks ago, when it was so bitterly cold outside, a lovely grey cat
showed up on our doorstop. It was quite young, barely a year old, I
would guess, and had a white chest. The kids dubbed him “Beard-o”
on account of his chest, but it makes me think “weirdo” every
time I hear them call him that.
Very
quickly, it became evident that Beard-o was an indoor cat. He would
dash inside every opportunity he got and when he did manage to get
inside, he clearly knew how to behave. He was calm, padding around
the allowed areas, he knew how to “play” with pieces of paper or
whatever he found on the floor, he was comfortable and knew how the
system worked. He was happy inside.
This
is in direct opposition to our regular yard cats. We have more of
them than absolutely necessary, but though they are all well-fed and
taken care of, they live outside in a straw bale house. When they
accidentally end up in the house, they are skittish and a race is on
to catch them and throw them out before they skitter away and hide in
some dark hole where you can't find them and then they skulk around
whining to get out.
I am
the reason we don't have indoor cats. In my opinion, cats have two
fatal flaws that prevent them from living inside my house. Flaw
number one: they scratch on furniture – the couch and living room
rugs in particular. Flaw number two: they shed. Our cats never
quite get around to displaying the second flaw as they get tossed out
as soon as number one is displayed, but I know about it from hearsay.
Beard-o learned this early on in his stay at our place. He is
reluctantly welcomed by Headmistress until he inevitably participates
in some common cat-like activity, such as scratching or jumping up.
Out he goes!
Beard-o
showed up at our place uninvited and made himself as much at home as
he possibly could, obliged as he was to live outside with the other
yard cats and our old dog, making only periodic forays into the
house. Beard-o is by no means the first stray cat that has wandered
into our yard. We live a mile from town and have a number of
reasonably close country neighbours and a number of female felines. However, most tomcats, prone as
they are to wandering, eventually will leave and head back home.
Beard-o did not. I often wondered why not. He clearly was used to
living a more posh lifestyle than what he was compelled to adopt at
our house. He was clearly loved and well-taken-care of. Why did he
not go home? It couldn't be that far away. Why had he left his home
in the first place? My husband's speculation was that he had
travelled unexpectedly to our home from my place of work in town
while warming himself in the engine of my van.
And
then a curious thing happened. After a few weeks of having him
around, he just disappeared. We were hoping he had had the good
sense to go home and had not succumbed to the wilds of winter weather
or larger animals. We all kind of missed him.
After
about a week of his absence, my husband and kids made a visit to some
people we see weekly in Portage. As they got out of the van, they
saw a cat that looked suspiciously like Beard-o. When they went in,
they asked their hosts whether they had recently acquired a cat.
Turns out the cat had been hanging around their house for a week but
they surely did not want it. They hadn't fed it at all in the
hopes that it would go home. At the end of the evening, Beard-o got
a ride back to our place – on the inside of the van this time.
So
he's back here, getting fed and watered, with limited visitation
rights. He's doing his best to win us over (he has not scratched the
couch or living room rug once since his return). Evidently, he has a
tendency to travel. Evidently, he has the good sense not to move
around too much en route. And yet the question remains, why does he
not have the good sense to return home?
As I
was pondering this, I realized that he could have travelled really
from anywhere. I had been assuming he was from Austin, but we could
have inadvertently picked him up in Portage, or MacGregor, or
possibly even farther afield. Maybe Beard-o has no idea where he is
or even where he's from and so he's making the best of where he is.
I
guess I've felt rather like that this last year. Uncomfortable with
where I am as a person. My problem is that I can't decide if I
should, like Beard-o, make the best of where I am, or if I should
have the good sense to go “home”. Only I'm not quite sure where
“home” is anymore. Or whether the place I thought was home isn't
home anymore and I need to hitch a ride to somewhere else. This is
all, of course, figuratively speaking. I'm not intending to
physically move. I am grateful for my physical home and family that
are stable constants in my shifting life, who allow me to come
inside!
And
then, last night, I came across this passage:
People
of Zion, who live in Jerusalem, you will weep no more.
How
gracious [God] will be when you cry for help!
As
soon as he hears, he will answer you.
Although
the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of
affliction,
your
teachers will be hidden no more; with your eyes you will see them.
Whether
you turn to the right or the left,
your
ears will hear a voice behind you saying,
“This
is the way; walk in it.”
Isaiah
30:19 - 21
It at
once gave me hope – there's a teacher on the horizon, to give me
direction – and apprehension – I've heard that adversity and
affliction are good teachers, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm
eager to sign up for their classes.
While
we're both here for now, I guess we'll see where Beard-o and I
finally end up.
***
If anyone recognizes this cat and would like to reclaim him, please
let us know. ***
