That Darn Cat

Just when you think you understand someone they do something so out of character that you realize you didn’t know them quite as well as you thought you did. Some people like to classify others as either cat people or dog people. I have always had cats. I am a definite cat person but I love dogs too. My Mom was a dog person. She grieved after the death of her dog Ruffles for years. Never in a million years would I ever have thought she would go goofy over a cat. This is the story of Mom and her Pixie.

Three years ago my Mom warned me when I came home from work to be careful with the car in the carport because a cat had just given birth to four kittens, three black and one smoky gray. Mom bought cat food. Of course she said it was only because the mother cat needed to be near her babies and shouldn’t have to go out looking for food. She wasn’t adopting them or anything don’t get the wrong idea. She was only helping out a lactating mother cat. Of course I put the validity of that protest right up there with the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. I wasn’t buying it for a moment.

Mother watched the kittens grow and when they were ready to be weaned she bought kitten food. Of course she was only making sure that the kittens grew up strong with the proper food. She wasn’t attached to them at all. Right. I wasn’t buying that one either. It is hard to maintain that fiction when you check on the kittens several times a day. It is harder to maintain that fiction when after the mother cat takes off you continue buying cat food and taking care of the growing kittens.

My mother’s experience with cats has always been through mine. She and Dad babysat Zonker and Sasha when I went on my honeymoon. She grieved with me when I lost Zonker. She was happy when I got Casper and grieved at his loss. She comforted me when I lost Sasha and welcomed Merlin to the family. When I came to stay with her I only had Merlin and he is the ultimate momma’s boy. I didn’t take her seriously when she asked if I wanted another cat. I love cats and said sure I would take another cat. I was sure this was a rhetorical question since Merlin is getting older and I thought she was talking about in the future after he had gone would I want another cat.

One morning I came down to get my coffee and out of mother’s bedroom prances this little black cat. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I looked at the cat rubbing up against me and asked if mother knew she was in the house? I leave for work, shaking my head, and wondering what in the world was going on. When I come home the cat is still in the house. Okay out with it Mom what is the cat doing here? Her first reply was that I said I wanted another cat. This one was the brave one of the four and kept coming into the house. She would let it stay and explore. It was so cute. She fed it and it just didn’t want to stay outside. Sigh. You let the cat inside and feed it and it doesn’t want to go back out? Mom definitely had a lot to learn about cats.

So much to Merlin’s dismay Pixie joined the household. Mother wasn’t going to get fond of her however. Easter Bunny time. Knowing that she was going to be an indoor only cat we were responsible pet owners and took her to the Vet to have her checked over and spade. Mother who wasn’t fond of her remember worried all night about Pixie. She missed her. She was worried that Pixie would think we abandoned her. She worried something would go wrong with the operation. She couldn’t wait for me to get home from work so we could go and get her. Pixie was held and cuddled and fussed over after she got home. But remember mother wasn’t fond of her.

One Saturday afternoon little Miss Adventurous dashed out the door. Mom was frantic. She and Mike searched for her while I stayed in the house in case she came back and wanted in. Mom was sure she was lost forever. My brother came upstairs carrying a cat and asking if this was the one. Looking at those big gold eyes and looking at the little notch in her ear I knew it was Pixie. And so the battle began of Pixie wanting to go out and explore and Mom determined she was staying inside.

Mom worked the three to eleven shift at the hospital at the beginning of Pixie’s reign. I use to listen for her to come in before I fell asleep at night. Mothers want to make sure their children are in safe and daughters worry about their mothers. One night Mom came up in an absolute panic. Pixie had gotten out and she wouldn’t be able to find her way back and wild animals would get her and she would be scared etcetera. Putting shoes and a coat on I went downstairs and we went out onto the carport. She had gone out of that door. Mom was so upset that she would never see the cat she wasn’t going to be fond of again. I finally had to gently tell her to hush a moment and give me the flashlight. Listening for the tinkling of the bell on her collar I realized the little minx was in the bushes. Shining the light on her I reached in and pulled her out and gave her to Mom who was practically in tears. I went back to bed to the sounds of my Mom scolding the cat for running out and scaring her grandmother to death. I mentally started taking bets with myself as to when Mom would finally break down and admit she loved the cat.

This old house has a basement and right by the stairs there is a ledge. Pixie discovered that running next to the ledge is a crawl space where she could run around, holler and hear her echo and generally get filthy. Pixie runs into the crawl space and Mom goes into a panic. I reassure her that the cat can not get stuck. She got in she can get out. She can’t fall through the ceiling. She can’t get lost. When she is darn good and ready she will come out. Pixie proceeds to play this little game of hide and seek whenever she can manage to zip by the humans and get into her crawl space. She played the game today. One afternoon with Mom practically in tears she begged me to try and get Pixie to come out. She had tried bribing her with food to no avail. I went down a second time, after ascertaining the first time that she was all right. Mom claimed the cat was crying and didn’t know how to find her way out. I knew she was listening to herself as her voice echoed. Something in my tone of voice told Pixie she better get her furry butt out of there right now. Bath time. Mom scolding the cat time.

It took about a year for my stubborn Mom to finally admit that she loved the cat. Everyone else knew it all the time. Let’s face it when every conversation started with her telling you the cute thing Pixie did, how smart she was and on and on you kind of get the idea that Mom was a tiny bit fond of her cat. Mom even retired from work because her daughter had no qualms about using the line that “Pixie needs you at home and would like you to retire and spend more time with her.” Yeah I know shameless. All I can say in my defense is that it worked.

And so it came to pass that a little black cat with big gold eyes and a white spot on her throat reaped the rewards of being the brave one of the litter. She was fed deli beef and turkey on demand. She was allowed on the kitchen cabinet, on one side only of course like she didn’t go on the other side when Mom wasn’t looking. She would hop onto Mom’s lap for her daily nap and Mom would stay in the chair and hold her because she was so comfortable she couldn’t bear to get her up. It has been three years since that day when Mom warned me to be careful that we had kittens in our garden shed. Pixie, little rascal that she is, added years to the life of a woman with an extremely bad heart. I am convinced that Mom held onto life so tenaciously these last three years because she loved her cat and Pixie loved her. As the Andrew Lord Weber song says, “Love Changes Everything.”