A Cat's Tale

My neighbor has an orange and white tabby cat and every time I see it, I think of Tiger, the first cat my family ever "owned."  Tiger actually started off with one of our neighbors; back then, spaying and neutering cats were just not commonly done so it was no surprise that this particular family had an overabundance of felines patrolling their property.  The mother belonged to them but the kittens, well, they just seemed to belong to everybody.

Tiger wandered over to our yard a time or two and after several surreptitious feedings on our part, he decided to hang around. Mom wasn't thrilled with the prospect; she was not particularly big on animals back then and I think she was also uncomfortable about whether or not keeping Tiger violated our rental agreement--it specified "no dogs" but the atmosphere didn't exactly feel welcoming toward "non-dog" creatures either.

Anyway, Tiger grew from a scrawny, affectionate kitten into a muscular, affection cat with the typical big-headed physique of the average unneutered tom. And like all sexually mature males, it was not long till he was off looking for action.  He would disappear for a day or two and return with gouges on the top of his head and teeth marks in his ears. That's about when one of the feral cats in the neighborhood went into heat.

There used to be a big empty lot behind our house and for the next week or so, it was a common sight to see Tiger and every other tom cat in the vicinity fighting for the opportunity to win the favor of the lady in question, an ordinary black cat with yellow eyes and a wild, frightened expression.  Their warning wails and battle cries, their ferocious attacks and determined chases stirred up the field and peace throughout the days and nights.  Then it was over.  Tiger was triumphant and his displays of, uh, affection, were highly public and highly vocal.

This is where it gets interesting.  At mealtimes, Tiger was suddenly disinterested; rather than scarfing his food as usual, he would sniff it and sit back.  As soon as we were out of sight, he'd meow and the little black female would scurry out from under the house and hastily gulp down his meal.  It happened repeatedly over the next few weeks as the female grew significantly heavier and rounder.

She disappeared and we assumed she was hiding out somewhere to have the kittens.  Tiger went back to eating his meals and we thought things were back to normal.  We thought.  A few weeks later, we saw Tiger sitting in the middle of the field.  He said, "mrow, mrow, mrow," and out of the bushes came 5 kittens--all were black with orange and white splotches. I will never forget my mother's tone when he started leading them to our house; all she said was, "Oh, no," but the dread, disbelief, horror, resignation she put into those two words!

When we weren't around, the kittens would sleep in his bed and eat his food.  Two of the kittens disappeared not long afterwards but three stuck around; one became very tame, one was moderately so and the other was nearly as wild as his mother.  Mom had to put her foot down on this one; a single cat was doable but not four.  The kittens were caged and dropped off at the Humane Society.

It was clear to me that Tiger was looking for them. He left some of his food at mealtimes, followed us around and meowed incessantly.  And, as if things could not get more unbelievable, he returned one day with a young cat--it was one of the two who had not stuck around with its siblings before!  This cat had been wild and untouchable previously but became affectionate and people-friendly, seemingly overnight, upon her return.  A few days after it became obvious that we were going to let her stay, Tiger left.  We never saw him again.

I named his daughter Squeaky because of her strangely high-pitched vocalizations.  She was with us for about a year; she mated once during that time period and had two stillborn offspring.  Not long after, she left and we never saw her again either. 

Since all of our cats lived outdoors, it is certainly not beyond the realm of possibility that they were, unbeknownst to us, killed by a car or something, but the timing of their departures always made me wonder; Tiger brought home his offspring to us twice and left immediately after Squeaky was accepted.  Squeaky left as soon as she had her babies.  It's as though they knew their time with us was coming to an end and they wanted to leave us with a replacement.  A fanciful thought perhaps, but anyone who has ever had a cat knows that they are the uncanniest of creatures; what they do and think goes beyond our ability to understand.