Envy - Joan Shepherd

Two cats were adopted from Pet’s Lifeline about seven years ago. Two very different cats, both in looks and personalities.

The Siamese has beautiful markings and soft fur that sheds everywhere, has a persistent meow in different tones that makes one believe she is really talking. She also is a house cat, goes 6 feet out the front door, looks and sniffs, and it is 80/20 chance whether she turns back to the house or maybe walks to a warm piece of flagstone for a nap. No tree climbing, no bird catching –  a lizard or a leaf will do nicely.

The other cat has a strong personality; very independent, wants to be outdoors to investigate climbing trees, the roof of a neighbor’s house – and then meows more like squeaks, short and sweet, wanting people to see her up so high.  She has designated a very large territory around the  house and  neighborhood cats are not welcomed. Her whiskers are very long which look handsome against her solid dark fur except for four white feet.   She will come running when I call her, even if it takes a couple of minutes.

Her conversations are limited. When hungry, she sits in the pantry next to her dish on the floor, and sits looking elegant, and sits, waiting for someone to see her. Very polite. Sometimes she sleeps next to me, so close that when I turn, she turns also keeping body contact. She is a lover with four feet, one of which she uses so gently to touch my face in the morning when it is time to get finished with sleeping. Time to get something to eat and go outside. 

Needless to say I loved this cat almost more than the other. 

One Friday morning, she stayed on the bed and looked kind of pathetic. She didn’t want to be petted and in fact, would give a sharp squeaky meow when touched. It was vet time, obviously. My cat-loving neighbor helped get her into a carrier. The Vet discovered a badly infected tooth, which should be pulled. Board her over the weekend getting antibiotics, pull the tooth on Monday, and go home on Tuesday. All went according to plan except when I was handed the bill that didn’t include any details except the fee – almost $800.  I recovered from near fainting and drove home where the cat wanted outside, against the Vet’s directions. I let her out the next morning.

This loving little cat had made a decision, all by herself.  She didn’t like being in a carrier, didn’t like sleeping at the Vet’s for four nights, she didn’t like getting shots and feeling that new empty space in her mouth, and most of all, she didn’t like me anymore.  I was the one who had held her on my lap while I was on the computer, I fed her and gave her pets, I let her sleep next to me once in awhile, and I was the one who put her through this ordeal.  

She was gone for a couple of days before appearing in the yard but wouldn’t come in the house. Gone for more days, occasionally coming to the yard and looking thinner, her coat looking dull. She no longer visited the neighbor who had helped me get her to the Vet. She began to look feral and I was not happy, especially as I made payments on the bill.  My neighbors would report they had seen her, so obviously she stayed in the neighborhood.

More than a  month later, I talked with a neighbor who lived just around the corner from me, asking him if he had seen my cat, kind of thin with black fur and four white feet.

“”Oh, you mean Boots!?” Boots?  He went on:  “She has four white feet! I just fed her supper and I feed her every morning around six and if I’m late, she comes around to the back door to see if I’m there. She is most loving, sits in our laps, we brush her.  My wife really likes her.”

 “Does she sit like a princess waiting for food?”

“Yes.”

“Does she have a kind of squeak instead of a real meow?”

“Yes. I’ve made a little bed for her on the porch.  We don’t let her in the house with my cats that don’t go outside.” 

”Well" I say. “You have taken in an $ 800 cat”.

I tell him that she is angry with me, she left after being at the Vet’s. He made no further comment.

The cat’s name is Rebecca. More months have gone by and I am envious of my neighbor who has my cat. Some times when I pick up the mail that is in a line of mailboxes across the street from her new home, I call her. “Rebecca, where are you? Will you come say hello? ‘Ere kitty kitty, come on,  Rebecca” 

And sometimes, it works. She will walk toward me but won’t let me pet her.  Once in awhile, she comes to the yard and will have a conversation with my loyal other cat, nose to nose, sharing short stories.  And several times, in the past few weeks, now six months since the pulled tooth and her stay at the Vet’s, she will let me give her a pet; even rolls over back and forth on the dirt letting me pet her stomach in that vulnerable position, then without a word, she jumps on her four white paws and heads back to her new home.