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| Name: |
Mystery
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Age: |
Ten years old
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| Gender: |
Male
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Kind: |
American Shorthair, Tuxedo
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| Home: |
St. Helens, Oregon, USA
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I
have always considered that people adopted their pets, not the other way
around, but this one special feline I came to meet had it the other way
around. I had recently moved into a small house and had been living there
for many months when I caught new evidence that someone had been sharing
my garden space. Soon as I was returning home from work the someone bolted
from the front porch and disappeared into the neighborhood. This was
becoming a routine, and despite my efforts in calling to the scaredy-cat
hoping to get to meet him, as long as I was present, he was not.
Realizing that the poor thing was homeless, I brought back a bag of dry
cat food, some bowls and a cardboard box with a folded towel inside and
placed them on the porch, some fresh food and water left out for the
street-kid to find after I went inside for the night. The next day I saw
the box had been slept in, and the food was neatly polished off. I felt
better at knowing he was getting the benefits of his provisions. Yet my
continued efforts at contacting the critter were failing miserably day
after day, so I decided to try a new approach. Instead of leaving the food
out for the kitty to enjoy during the night, I grabbed the bowl, poured a
bit of the food in it and rattled the stuff as loudly as I could all the
while calling "Here, kitty kitty kitty..." and to my amazement our Someone
came out of hiding and trotted across the street and the parking lot.
"C'mon you! Wanna eat?" I taunted. I filled the bowl so he would know it
was I who was feeding him, then went back inside to let him dine in peace.
This became the first phase of our remarkable relationship. Not only did
Kitty Kitty come to eat, he actually tolerated my presence a few days
later when I remained sitting on the far side of the porch while he
scarfed down his yummy food. I soothingly spoke to him so he would get to
know my voice, and to try and keep him calm and assured that he was safe.
Well, one chilly evening a week later as he was munching happily, I
scooted a bit closer to him, ever sooooo slowly as not to spook him, and
played a little trick on the furry hobo. I must have 'forgotten' to remove
my thumb from the food bowl, and as he was nibbling contentedly I started
scooting the bowl towards me. The trick was working! The bowl reached my
side complete with a cat attached. Then, before he could react, I petted
him right square on the back. I thought his back would dip all the way to
the porch in an effort to escape my outstretched hand, but something
triggered a new response from him. Rather than springing clean off the
porch (which is what I was expecting), he surprised us both by standing
tall and began rubbing at everything - my knee, the flower pots, railing,
etc. Kitty was purring! I had made a friend.
In the evenings to follow, the weather was becoming increasingly miserable
with icy wind blowing the driving rain sideways. I called, as always, and
this time the bush off the porch ejected a miserable looking wet rag who
ran happily to the waiting food. He ate a few bites, and looked up as I
was holding open my thick winter coat. He seemed to know what I was
offering, and immediately crawled deep inside. I held him, dried him off
as best I could, and we sat for a while quietly together shivering in the
darkness. I knew what I had to do, but also knew the impending results...
After he felt warm and relatively dry, I spun around and cracked open the
front door, offering my little buddy a much warmer, safer environment (in
theory), only to be met face-to-face with my existing furry female feline
who proceeded to blast him in the face with hot air, and she said a few
things felines should not repeat, and my sad friend decided another night
in the bushes would be more to his liking.
The next night brought with it a doozy of a storm, and the box had blown
clean off the porch leaving the towel three blocks away. This began the
next phase of our relationship. I folded a soft blanket into an emergency
kitty-bed, prepared the spare litter box, brought in the food and water
bowls and made a space in the separate utility room just for him, only a
closed door away from miss blasty-pants. I opened the back door, cried out
"Meow?" and the bush went "Meow-wow!" and a familiar wet streak made a mad
dash for the welcoming door, and as I snapped it shut, my new friend found
his bed, did circles on top of it, sampled his food, but knowing fully why
I was doing all this, he opened his golden eyes wide, and in silent cat
language, and thanked me from the bottom of his kitty-heart. To this day,
nine years later (and adapted to becoming a fully indoor pet) he reminds me
every day just how grateful he is.
So why did I choose the name Mystery for him? So many unanswered questions
I have about where did he come from, why was he neutered but had no
collar, how could he have lived for about a year on his own and remain in
perfect health, who taught him to use the litter box, how did he come to
me, and to this day not tolerate another person to come anywhere near him,
why is he so well behaved and never gets into trouble, and the weirdest
one of all ... why does a nineteen-pound solid tomcat still to this day ask to
climb on to my shoulder and beg to be carried around? What else could I
name this incredible being?
He is the most gentle, loving animal I have ever met, always wanting to
sit with me and purr away. He teaches me new things, such as how to pet
play with him differently, how he loves to go on a hunt finding hidden
toys and proudly trot through the house announcing his achievement. We
have become best friends, and I am just as thankful every day, too, for
the marvelous and mysterious gift left for me to treasure.
See more images of Mystery!
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