That Cat

Mabel is back. She is our mystery cat. We saw her a lot last Summer. We like to sit outside on balmy Summer evenings and she often came by to say hello. She wears no collar. But, it is clear that she belongs to someone. Her two front feet are declawed and she is never hungry, seldom seems interested in any food we offer to her. 

At first, intrigued, T asked around to all of our neighbors about her. Did she belong to them and if so, what was she doing outside when she was declawed?  Not one neighbor claimed her and literally ALL remarked that they had never once seen her before. We thought this odd, since Mabel is one of the most friendly cats we have encountered. 

We have no idea if Mabel is her name. It probably is not, but...to us....she is Mabel. She would show up in our yard and wind around our legs purring, sticking her nose into our glasses of iced tea...or in my case, a shot of Tullamore Dew. She purred loudly and lustily and was not shy about crawling up into our laps and rubbing her face against ours, her whiskers tickling our cheeks. She enjoyed a good chin scratch now and then, but she never tarried long. She wasn't interested in lap sitting. She would curl up in the space between us and seem to listen to our conversation. Sometimes we played music and were just quiet. She seemed to enjoy that as well. T liked to play her classical music while I've always preferred quiet, acoustic rock, usually Indie. It didn't matter to Mabel. She enjoyed both equally. She would sit for a few moments and then get up and restlessly prowl around our legs, purring and marking us with her face. Then....she'd spot a mouse or a rabbit or a bird...maybe a squirrel and she'd be gone for the night. 

We often speculated on where she came from and why. Our neighbors sat outside, too, but she never took an interest in them. It wasn't a food issue. She never was interested in any food that was offered. She simply seemed to enjoy our company. 

The weather began to grow cooler as Autumn approached. We sat outside less and less and eventually put all the yard chairs in the shed for storage. I still sat outside when the sun was out in the afternoons. I had just heard that my cancer had returned and my melancholia was like a cloud around me. I would take my book outside and sit on the back steps and try to lose myself inside of other worlds. Sometimes, Mabel would show up. She would crawl up on me and look plaintively over my shoulder as if she was looking for T. 

"She's at school," I would tell her. "She'll be home in a few hours." 

I swear that she looked at me as if she clearly understood. She would meow and willow inside and out of my legs, sometimes curl on the rail above me as I read. She'd watch over the yard until something took her interest and then she'd yawn into my lap for one more quick chin scratch and little mark on my cheeks with her whiskery face and then she'd trot off, looking for adventures. 

One night, in mid Autumn, we had just come home from the grocery store and T got out of the car to grab the bags in the back seat. With a loud meow, Mabel came leaping across the yard and into T's arms. T held her, soothed her. 

"What's up, buttercup? You see a raccoon?" T asked her, gently cradling her. 

Mabel wasn't talking. She seemed agitated, so we let her in with us into the house for the first time. She was like the nosiest house guest. She carefully explored every single room and finally ended up coming back to the kitchen to observe us putting up groceries. We had purchased some chicken at the deli and I tore off a small piece and offered it to her. She sniffed it delicately and then turned her head. No interest. T poured some cream into a bowl and set it on the floor. She sniffed it twice and ignored it. She much preferred to just hang with us. This was obvious. 

We sat in the living room. T turned on the television set to CNN and I picked up my book. Mabel took turns lap sitting, carefully sliding in under my book and peeking up at me with a happy meow. I put the book down and gave her a few chin scratches. Then, she lazily stretched off of me, arched her back for another long stretch and padded over to T, to sit between her legs for a moment or two, watching the television with her, as if Anderson Cooper interested her at least a little bit. After about an hour, Mabel walked to our back screen door and stood gently meowing to notify us that it was time to go. Again, she said her casual goodbyes, marking both of us with a good cheek rub. 

It snowed a few days later and that was the last we saw of Mabel. We often speculated about her, hoping that she had made it back home safely. She so obviously belonged to someone, was well fed, a happy cat. As the months passed, we forgot about her. 

And then, last night....there she was again. T walked by the back screen door, heard some scratching and there was Mabel, knocking to come visit. She let her in and Mabel greeted us both with happy warmth, allowing us both to hold her temporarily. Then, she clamored to get down and went through the house exploring. She was attentive to anything new, like a good friend should be. 

"Is this a new foot stool? Hmm. Let me try it out. Oh, yes. This is nice and soft. I approve. And what are these on top of the dresser? WANDS?! How interesting! I think I will just give them a little tap with my foot. Oh, my, yes. This is FUN." 

After meandering around the house, Mabel settled between us on the sofa for a few more bits of cuddling and then followed T around while she changed the light bulb in our garage door opener and emptied the dishwasher. She looked exactly the same. She cozied up to our long picture window and gazed out at the birds in the yard. She cleaned her paws nicely and then got up to stand politely at the screen door as if to say, 

"It was nice seeing you. I'll be back another time!"

I opened the door and she went out only to seem to remember something and come back quickly to the door to be let in. I took her photo, which she put up with nicely and let her back in. 

"What's the matter, Mabel? Forget something?"

She wound around my legs until I picked her up and then she gently rubbed her face on mine, marking me as hers. I handed her to T and she did the same. And then....she was truly ready to go. We let her go and she ran off to find some shenanigans. 

Afterwards, we talked. We have never known a cat like Mabel. Why has she selected us? Why not any of the other neighbors? Who does she belong to? Or, we should say...who belongs to her? She is like a sprite. She comes in, spreads some love and good will and then leaves. Like a feline Mary Poppins. 

I don't believe for a second that she needs us. But, I am starting to think that maybe we need her. 

In the end, we decided that you don't question good fortune. You simply treasure it. So, that is what we will continue to do as long as she allows us...

That cat is a remarkable cat. That cat is our Mabel.