There is another cat in my life now in a different neighbourhood. He is a male and, again, lives elsewhere but visits daily. He stares intelligently at me but does not follow that up with a head tilt to the side; he is not a query-some cat. Over the years I have 'owned' cats and had cats 'visit'. They are such fascinating beings. Each one has been different. This post is about Samosa and Seymour.
This is not my cat: she has people who consider her their responsibility and would wonder and worry if she did not come home at night.
This is my cat: in the unique way cats have of involving a person, a family, a neighbourhood in their lives, so she has added me to her list.
She greets me as I leave or enter the house; some days she waits with me on the veranda for the early morning paper to be delivered; she risks having me trip over her and dump a bag or two of groceries on her as she suddenly stops on the front path and performs the lie-down-roll-over-so-glad-to-see-you manoeuvre.
In the garden she lies on my feet or close by until the pen or book or sun-warmed plum or Knitting is put down and then she gives a nimble leap onto lap and blisses out as the base of her ears is thoroughly rubbed. Perhaps I was a cat one life and retain the memory of how delightful it is to have feline ears thusly stroked because I seem to enjoy the activity as much as she does.
Cats are just the right size, somehow, and cat people will know exactly what I mean.
Samosa (the name I call her because it popped to mind the first time she came to visit after I had just moved in; her 'owners' call her something different; she responds to both) does not wander far but she is friendly with all the immediate neighbours and they like her.
In a former neighbourhood a cat named Seymour had a daily routine that took him to many different places and people. I was his early morning visit – fellow larks – and he would come by again in mid-afternoon when I was likely to be having a snack and willing to share. He loved corn chips with cream cheese. Apparently he was in the habit of having an afternoon nap somewhere because one day he arrived home with a note attached to his collar which read, "Please send sleeping bag."
(re-post from Nov 18 2011)