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Dear Reader,
He doesn't let me touch him, he sleeps on top of my car, and is covered with fleas, but I can't get close enough to do anything about it. Turkey with gravy better be on the breakfast menu or he gets that look in his eye. Basically he's an aloof, stereo-type kitty, "Feed me on demand, ice cubes in my water--thank you kindly, provide a shady place to sleep, but don't expect me to snuggle up to you." So why am I missing Goldie, the feral cat my husband and I have been taking care of for the past two years? Goldie hasn't been around for a few days and I realized this morning just how sad that makes me feel.
A ragged looking Goldie (the name my husband and I gave him because of his reddish-orange fur) showed up in our yard a couple of years ago. Goldie kept his distance, sitting on the edge of our lawn waiting for Mama and Papa (two strays we adopted five years ago), to finish eating lunch on our side porch. Once Mama and Papa left, Goldie came over and gobbled up the leftovers. We didn't mind one more mouth to feed, but it did bother us that Goldie wasn't neutered. Obviously he was a party-boy, out all hours of the night, doing who-knows-what.
So as soon as Goldie started to feel more comfortable around us, we set up a walk-in cage, and slid his turkey and gravy dish way in the back. After four attempts we finally succeeded--secured the door and off we went to the vet. My vet had kindly offered, "If you can catch him, Suzanne, I'll do the surgery for free."
Two weeks after the surgery Goldie was a changed kitty, and he settled into a new routine. Eat, take morning and afternoon walks around the neighborhood, chase a few geckos and squirrels, and then settle-in for a late afternoon nap on the top of my car, or on my chaise lawn chair. Even though Goldie still wouldn't let us pet him, he'd become part of the family. The "strange-one" in the family I admit, but then I'm pretty strange myself, so we bonded from afar.
And now, here I sit feeling miserable. Why did I let myself get so attached to that cat? I think I'll call the cat shelters and animal control later today to see if someone snagged him. But it's going to be a weird conversation: "Do you have a collarless, feral, orange tabby? He's our cat, but there's a slight problem. It's a love/hate relationship. Goldie's had a hard life and is afraid to get too close. But he's our cat, we feed him, got him fixed and he sleeps on top of my car (which has the scratches to prove it). But he won't let me get near him--you don't happen to deliver, do you?"
All this worry and fuss, but in the midst of writing this column, when I looked up through my sun window...
To see the wayward Goldie and to enter this week's Muffins and Mayhem cap drawing go to: http://www.muffinsandmayhem.com/node/280
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Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
www.MuffinsandMayhem.com
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