I have known many cats in my life. My family had one cat after another, keeping kittens and their kittens, and their kittens. They were all outdoor cats, but they called us home. “Father Cats” never lingered, and none of those mother cats collected alimony. At the time, it didn’t occur to us that the female cats were not willful participants in the act of reproduction. It just happened to them. You could say that “cats will be cats, and that’s what they do,” but now I have become aware of the process. In my neighborhood today, there are many feral cats. If they do not belong to you, you can take them to the veterinarian and have them spayed or neutered for $25. They are then able to spend their lives lying in the sun, napping with the knowledge that death will not come so quickly.
I have the best neighbors. They are making great efforts to change the lives of these cats; they are neutering and spaying, feeding, supplying water, and in some cases, providing shelter. These acts of kindness reflect the state of the community. If the cat population was able to verbalize its gratitude, the furry entities would be raining thanks upon our little corner of the world.
I had a favorite outdoor cat. My husband and I called her “Mama Cat,” because she was almost always pregnant. The opportunity to spay her was impossible due to this predicament. “Mama Cat” and I shared a special bond. We communicated through eye contact. When I took my dog outside, our eyes would meet, affording her a chance to escape unseen before we exited the house. She had big blue eyes, light gray fur, and a graceful saunter. “Mama Cat” had a hard life, but our relationship was built on love, trust, and respect. She didn’t bat an eye when I provided water and food for her little ones, knowing I meant no harm. I helped her raise more than three litters. When she was in trouble, I rushed to her aide. “Mama Cat” was always granted a head start as I chased away the “bad guys.”
“Mama Cat” lived for several years, and disappeared quietly when it was her time. I mourn her loss every day. Reality causes liquid trails, trickling down my face when I remember that she is no longer basking on the neighbor’s concrete steps. She made an impact in my life and I miss her terribly. There is no doubt that she was an emotional support animal. I will always remember “Mama Cat.”
—SJB