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Scrounge Cat Requium

There is much to write about food, gardening, and motorcycles.  However, this is a day for remembrance.  Two of our scrounge cats have made the transition. Scrounge Cat 2 (aka Sidney) was part of the family for eight years; Scrounge Cat 4 lived with us for 10 months.

Sidney, the midnight rider

Sidney, the midnight rider

Sidney’s Song (aka Scrounge Cat 2)

He was a vocal cat.  From his first day with us, he would go into extended chorus of “woawwwww….”  I first noticed him at a rental house a block from us when we lived in Louisiana.  Sidney was left behind when the renters moved out. He sponged off neighbors for a while, but when they tired of his “woawwww”, he hit the streets (as they told me later).  Cooling down from a run one evening, he found me.  Softie that I am, he followed me home and into our hearts.  Maybe due to his starvation experience, he never missed a meal.  However, his bulk didn’t prevent him from catching a bird mid-air as he crouched below the bird feeder.  His catch was worthy of an outfielder bagging a potential three base hit at the warning track!

Sidney was a lover not a fighter.  Unlike Scrounge Cat 1, his battle wounds were on his butt.  He used about half his 9 lives.  One day he unintentionally hitched a ride with me to work.  He was under my truck bed (asleep I guess). He made the 1 mile trip in a downpour, stayed there all morning while it continued raining (typical Louisiana deluge).  He nearly made the trip home when he fell/jumped from the leaf springs, got run over by the rear wheel, then hid in the bushes outside our house where I found him.  He was stiff and sore for a few days, but no major damage.

Sidney easily made the transition to our new home 5 years ago.  He liked the deck a little too well though, one day falling 20 feet from the deck railing  to the concrete pad below, severely breaking his left hind leg.  The vet literally wired it back together.

After that last experience Sidney mellowed out.  He loved being outdoors but never strayed past the driveway.  His favorite sleeping spot was a motorcycle seat.  He went out every night but was always at the front door in the morning, ready for breakfast (and mandatory cat treats). One morning three weeks ago he didn’t show up for breakfast.  We haven’t seen him since.  He was eight years old and may have sensed his time had come.  Cats are more perceptive than humans about those things.

The remaining scrounge cats miss him and we do too.  He faithfully slept with me during my rehab/wheelchair days, though we called him my “boat anchor”! We love you Sidney, and till we meet again, may you be “forever young”.

 

 

Kitty confrontation, Scrounge Cat 4 (aka Buddy) in foreground with Scrounge Cat 1

Kitty confrontation, Scrounge Cat 4 (aka Buddy) in foreground with Scrounge Cat 1

 

Ode to Buddy

I can’t believe you’re gone.  I keep listening for your scratchy meow whenever I hear the bell jingle in the cat door.  I miss you so much, please come back if you can.

Buddy was the most unique cat I’ve ever lived with.  From his magnificent physique to the way he interacted with other cats, to his protective nature of us, “his” humans.  Buddy found us one cold February morning.  We thought, oh no, not another one and kept him outside, although he was very interested in the world past the front door.  After a horrific fight late one cold night we found him with a head wound, but otherwise OK.  He took out the neighborhood bully cat that night for which we are forever grateful.

It wasn’t long before he melted my heart.  I loved the way he gently butted his head against me, the way he loved my ruffling the fur on his neck, and his scratchy meow.

The other cats were not quite accepting him, yet I never heard him hiss.  He always seemed to be on guard duty on the concrete pad.  The night of November 1, Buddy went outside as was his habit.  We have not seen him since.  I know that one day we’ll meet again, either in this world or the next.  Still, come back now if you can my friend.  I love you, Buddy.

(note: I wrote Buddy’s remembrance in January 2012)

 

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2 Comments

  1. We always had cats at Ma and Pa’s. The best one was the first one – called Tattie (a tabby). He’d sit in the fish tank up to his neck and pat the goldfish out on to the carpet. For fun. The best one though was when he was lying on the lawn sunning himself. Mum thought he looked so cool and handsome she went up to stroke him. He instinctively arched his back and out popped a blackbird which he had been trying to suffocate under his belly. Bad cat that one.

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