The Cat Who Chose Us
I
had always been a dog person. My whole family, in fact. Growing up, our black
Labrador, Angel, had been a constant presence in my life and the best friend
you could have. She was always up for being my pillow when I wanted to read a
book out in the front yard, and we’d spend our nights laughing as she howled a
song or barked at my dad as they pretended to fight. When she passed away, it
was heartbreaking. It was strange to have to live without her.
When
a few years had passed, we felt it was time for another pet. Especially after
my parents divorced and my mom moved out, my sister and I felt that we needed
something to liven things up, to fill the void that Angel had left and now
seemed even larger. We started doing some research, trying to figure out what
breed of dog we wanted and where we could get it. My dad was also on board, so
the plan was in motion.
I
never expected anything to interrupt that plan. We were dog people, and we were
going to get a dog.
My
sophomore year was coming to an end and I was just about the moodiest
sixteen-year-old girl you’d ever meet. If I wasn’t on the computer writing
elaborate fantasy novels, I was locked up in my room blasting music. In fact,
my favorite band’s new CD had come out just a week before so I couldn’t really
be bothered with anything else. You can imagine how annoyed I was when I heard
an obnoxious banging.
Since
my dad didn’t feel like actually coming upstairs when he needed me, his usual
method of getting my attention was to stand at the bottom of the stairs and
bang on the wall. I flung open the door, letting the music continue to blare,
while I glared down at my father wondering what the hell could possibly be
important.
“What?!”
I asked.
“Come
see this!” was all he said, disappearing from the bottom of the stairs as he
went back into the kitchen.
I
rolled my eyes, shut off the music, and went downstairs to see what all the
fuss was about. Our kitchen had a glass sliding door that led out to the deck
on the side of the house. Since it was mid-June, the glass door was open,
letting the fresh air come in through the screen door. And sitting on the other
side of the door, meowing his head off, was a cat.
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| This was after we fed him but before he officially moved in |
I’d
never liked cats, but my first thought was that this one was pretty. It was
black and white, with perfectly symmetrical markings on its face and a pink
nose. It was small and skinny—not a kitten but not quite full grown, either.
And it was meowing at us like it lived here and wanted in.
In
my mind, cats had always been horrible creatures. Sure, they look cute, but get
too close and they’re bound to scratch or bite you. I just never understood
people who liked cats. I was too afraid to actually go outside and try to
interact with this cat, so I just watched him for a while before losing interest
and running back up to my room to blast my music again. My dad and I both
figured the cat would go back to where it came from. We didn’t know what to do
about it, so we did nothing.
The
cat came back the next night. Where it went during the day, I had no idea, but
our deck seemed to be its nighttime hangout spot. My sister was home so I
showed her our strange new neighbor. We decided to be adventurous and went
outside to meet this furry little creature, although we were both a little
afraid to actually touch it. We didn’t want any wounds.
It
seemed harmless enough. The cat was friendly enough to let us pet it a few
times, and we sat on the deck watching it chase moths. When it caught one
between its paws, it would chomp down on the moth like it was a tasty snack. We
laughed as the cat entertained us. I even dug into my hardly used art kit for
some string so I could pull it around and watch the cat pounce on it. But
eventually it got late, and once again we retreated inside, leaving the cat to
do whatever it was it did when we left it.
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| One of his favorite spots--he used to be so little! |
The
next day I figured out where the cat was living. It crawled out from under the
grill like it had been living there its whole life. Now that I was finally
seeing the cat in the daylight, it was very obvious that it was a boy. I had no
idea how long he had been living under our grill. I just went outside to play
with him again.
More
days passed and this cat was not leaving. We didn’t know what compelled him to
stay. The warm glow of the kitchen, the shelter of the grill, the endless
supply of moths to eat. Even though he had a flea collar around his neck, it
didn’t seem like he had a home. Either he was lost, or as my dad suggested, his
family probably dumped him on the side of the road and he just came to the
closest house he could find.
My
sister and I eventually came to realize the cat was catching moths because he
had nothing else to eat. We felt terrible for this cute little guy. My dad
warned us, “If you feed him, he’ll never leave.” Well, he wasn’t leaving anyway,
and he was hungry. We didn’t have any cat food, but we had tuna. We opened up a
can and set it out for the cat, along with a dish of water. He dove right in,
eager to be eating something that didn’t have wings.
Doing
something so simple was bigger than we even realized. By feeding this cat, we
were claiming him. My family—the dog people, feeding a stray cat. Eventually
letting that cat inside and naming him Gizmo. Letting him back outside so he
could hunt mice and leave their organs as presents on our doorstep. And
ultimately, letting him into our hearts.
Our
search for a dog ended when we let Gizmo in. We didn’t get to choose our pet
because he chose us. To this day I have no idea where he came from, but I’m so
glad he showed up when he did. I have a very different attitude toward cats
now, and I couldn’t imagine life without my little man. Even though he’ll
occasionally take a swipe at me, he’s always good for a snuggle. It’s been ten
years, two moves, and several pounds (for both of us) later, but he’s just as
cute, quirky, and lovable as the first time he meowed outside my door.
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| About two weeks after we got Gizmo--we were already snuggle buddies |
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| Ten years later--now we take selfies :) |
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