So I kept telling myself all
summer long. But he/she/it kept crying out to me. Ok…well maybe just some water…It’s hot outside. He needs
water, at the very least. Just some water….and a little milk.
It satisfied him. After he drank all that he wanted, he left to
go play with the rabbits and whatever else it is he does.
I had noticed in recent days
that the rabbits (which are also strays that wandered in) and the cat seem to be the best of
friends. They all hang out together,
sleep together, play together – seemingly love and count on each other.
A couple weeks later, I
heard the mournful meow again. My little buddy - that I most certainly do not
want - is back, I thought. He needs milk and he needs water. Throughout the
summer, this soon became a pattern. He only showed up when he seemed to be
desperate…maybe when the hunting had failed, or the sprinklers had not left a
puddle from which he could drink. He only returned about every two weeks, but I couldn’t help myself; when he made his appearance I always offered
water and milk. On one drizzly day, I offered moistened dog food. It was
all I had, and he seemed extra hungry that rainy day. I carefully placed the dish under the
car, allowing him to remain dry from the rain while he ate. As well, this place from under the car was where
he had always called out to me. I knew he felt safe there.
Eventually, he didn’t run as
I approached, but only remained watchful to be certain that I didn’t come too close. Today, he actually ran to meet me when he saw that I
had heard his call. And as I offered the
milk, he let me pet him as he drank.
Well doggone it, I guess I have another cat.
My first inclination of that fact was one day when my family had dropped me off from a road trip
we had taken together. When my sister pulled into the driveway there was "kitty"
and "bunny" playing alongside the fence.
“Who’s cat?” my sister
asked.
Ugh…I thought, hesitant to
answer. “Mine, I guess.” I had begrudgingly answered.
“What’s his name?”
“I didn’t name him.” I had
responded. But I had almost told her that his name was “Whiskey.”
I caught myself from saying that thinking my folks would not understand - I did not want them to think I was promoting “strong drink”.
It wasn’t that at all. I knew that the name "Whiskey" had just popped into my head when
asked, because of something that had happened years ago. When we were still in our old house, we had a stray that we had dubbed “Moonshine.” It was a symbolic thing for me. Moonshine, was made in secret, sold illegally,
probably at night from what the name reveals. That just seemed to fit the
little black kitty that seemed to appear when he thought no one was looking.
Moonshine…it fit. And so it was when
asked about this cat, which had showed up in a similar set of circumstances, the name “Whiskey”
was what popped into my mind. I have never named my pets the same name of a previous pet, so I just came up with something close when asked what the newest stray cat's name was.
Whatever! I have always been
told I have a mind that works in mysterious ways.
So Whiskey it is! Catchy title for my post, too! Bet that
will get the attention of some of my blog readers. J
And doggone it all…I am starting to love Whiskey - the cat.
 |
| I am starting to realize Whiskey is probably a girl. Calico boys are very rare. She/he/it actually came to me today, purring and rubbing her head on my hand after this photo - for probably 5 minutes or so. Yep! I have another cat! |
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