Mother Cat
(page 1 of 2)

by Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

        My mother always claimed she wasn't a cat person. Dogs were her preferred pet. It wasn't that she disliked cats. In truth, Mother loved all animals. She adorned her home with paintings showcasing a variety of wild animals, from cougars to wolves. And while cats weren't her chosen pet, she was often their choice.
        The first cat to come into our household was a feline simply named Mother Cat. Mother Cat first strayed to my sister's bedroom window, eagerly searching for a handout. This battered, worn, short-haired huntress awaited the baloney and milk my sister and I secretly offered from the opened window.
        These clandestine meals went on for several weeks until my mom realized why this stray was lingering by our home. Her first reaction was to discourage this animal, certain my father would be unhappy with a new pet.

Mother Cat Would Not Be Scared Away

        Ceasing the handouts did not daunt Mother Cat. She persistently staked her claim to her new found home. When an attempt to actively discourage the animal failed, Mom tried something drastic, especially for an animal lover. She filled a plastic bag with water and threw it on the stray. Mother Cat, drenched to the bone, shook off the water and stood her ground, looking pitifully into Mom's eyes. My mother, overcome by the callousness of her own actions, sat down on our front steps and broke into tears. The cat was ours.
        Or should I say, we were hers. Mother Cat came and went at will. Several days after the drenching, she brought us a gift; a wild little ball of gray fur. The kitten we named Walter, in honor of my father, whose own head of hair was prematurely gray.
        As the months passed Walter Cat grew into a beautiful long-haired feline who often fooled people into believing his lineage was Persian Blue rather than alley cat. Walter, whose first weeks were spent living as a wild creature, was always elusive and timid.
        About a year after Mother Cat came to us her origins were revealed to our family. A neighbor from down the street came to speak to my mom and spied Mother Cat.
        "That's our cat!" she exclaimed. "I wondered where she went."
        "Oh?" my mother quietly replied.
        "She looks pretty good." the woman mused. "She had kittens and our dog kept killing them," the woman explained. Then she suddenly spied our beautiful, sweet natured Walter Cat, who was lazily sunning on the porch.
        "And that's one of our kittens!" the woman announced possessively.
        "Oh no," Mother interrupted quickly, fearing the woman was about to lay claim to our precious Walter, "we've had that cat for years."
        Several days later the neighbor's teenage daughter appeared, laying claim to Mother Cat. The girl told us her cat's true name. It was long and exotic, an Egyptian sounding name, difficult to recall. The girl snatched up Mother Cat and carried her home. Mother Cat returned that afternoon.

Mother Cat Makes Her Choice

        Mother Cat and Walter remained with us. Although they were never our cats, our home was theirs.
        When Walter was a little over a year old, we noticed his mother was once again pregnant. This of course was in the days when controlling the pet population was not yet an issue. My sister and I were delighted.
        Father, who was a contractor, had his office located in the garage. One day my mother decided to fix a comfy bed for the new family, and placed it in Dad's office. She busily filled a large clean box with soft rags, arranging the material carefully. My dad noticed her activity and inquired as to what she was doing. He laughed heartily when she told him.
        Dad sweetly reminded mom that cats have kittens wherever they choose and she was wasting her time deciding such a location for this very independent outdoor feline. Yet, Dad soon discovered he couldn't have been more wrong. One day, while doing bookwork in his office, he heard noise coming from the box mom had prepared. There he found Mother Cat giving birth to four mice-like creatures. One would eventually resemble Mother Cat, another favored Walter, the third looked like Sylvester the cartoon cat, and the fourth was a calico, whom I named Gypsy.
        Our greatest concern for the kittens was the threat of Walter. We had always heard that male cats kill kittens. My mother went to great lengths to separate Walter from his siblings. But much to her chagrin she soon discovered he was not only visiting his new brother and sisters, but tending for them as would his mother. We were also surprised to find this large, overgrown, Persian Blue look-alike, nursing from his mother.
        Later, Mother Cat moved the kittens from the box and began stashing them in assorted locations in the garage. She must not have felt the box offered adequate protection for her offspring.
        Once again my mother intervened and moved all the kittens into a ski boat stored in the garage. Mother Cat loved it there. She could come and go at will, while her kittens were well protected.

Mother Cat's Last Litter

        Although the kitten experience was exciting, my parents felt it would be prudent to spay Mother Cat before more kittens arrived. The vet informed us the cat's milk needed to be dried up prior to the operation.
        Dad's solution was to place chicken wire over the boat, preventing Mother Cat from visiting the kittens. The clever cat out maneuvered Dad. We soon found her laying atop the barrier, her nipples dangling through the chicken wire and the kittens standing on their hind legs eagerly nursing.
 

Click Here for the Rest of the Story>>>>