Accidental Tourist

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. ***