Some days, I imagine I’d like to be a cat. Life seems all dessert for felines. Simple pleasures satisfy – a sunspot to curl up in, a scrap of food and something to chase.
Last Sunday afternoon, Patrol Cat reported for duty. Bearing mole, he padded past my lawn chair, head high, tail low. His unlucky victim dangled damp and limp, bobbing with every step.
We’ve been chasing underground varmints for years. The venerable Siamese has proved a welcome ally. I would have called, “Bravo!” but that cat is shy. So, though he strutted within a few feet of me, I said nothing. He may have dropped the mole and run.
Our neighbors own Patrol Cat. They told us when we moved to the village that he wages war on local rodents. To remind us of his community service, the hunter sometimes leaves his prey where we can find it on the lawn or at the back door. I don’t mind. The cat’s talent suits me. I accept it as rent on his unsightly digging spots in our gardens.
So unless he stalks Jenny Wren, who sometimes occupies the log cabin perched in the ornamental plum, or the tree swallows who choose our rose-painted bird-cottage, I welcome the Siamese. He seems not to mind His Grace, our own cat. I suspect they became friends before Grace adopted us – a mentorship perhaps, for Grace has also become a keen hunter. We appreciate the reduction of the mice, mole and gopher population, a toll we pay for the privilege of living within steps of open country.
The old cat has surprised me a time or two while following his instincts. One summer evening at dusk, as I stood by the spruce row taking sunset photos, a nerve-splitting yowl startled me. Immediately following that, two wild things dashed my way: Patrol Cat in urgent pursuit of another cat.
Both animals made a frenzied scramble up the maple to my right. When I raised my camera, they froze, noticing me for the first time. Silhouetted against the sky, they looked like cougars. But whatever they’d begun, my presence spoiled it. They glared at me a long while before slinking down and dissolving like shadows into the dusk. I felt like a killjoy. Unlike many humans, cats prefer privacy.
Cats simply do life. They stay true to the way they were created. As annoying as that can be at times, in an increasingly complex world, where so many of my own species struggle with great confusion as to their God-given identities and reasons for being I find that refreshing.
So much about the world, I don’t understand. I understand cats a little. Should the day come when my own cat, or anyone else’s, decides it’s a person, a dog or frog, I think I’ll croak myself. Meanwhile, I remain grateful God created me female and human. And I pray for grace to listen to, love, and speak truth to those who struggle.
