Another True Cat Story

And why you should always have a can of tuna fish

I heard the back door open.

“There’s a cat under the shed.”

Did I hear my husband correctly? I doubted it. But hoped for it.

Couldn’t be.

Could it?

We have two loud barking dogs. Why would any cat come here? Though we do have a lot of chipmunks.

“What?”

“A cat. I saw him poke out his head.”

I dried off my hands, got on my sneakers and yelled loud enough for anyone else in the house to hear:

“There’s a cat under the shed. A CAT!”

It felt like a big thing, a random cat under the shed. An unexpected visitor in a lonely spring. The real origin of my excitement, you should know, is a result of my spirit history with cats.

(But I’m not a weird cat lady.)

It’s a history that defies logic and even the lottery. You can read about one of the stories here if you don’t believe me:

It couldn’t really be a cat, I thought, as I hurried toward the shed.

My husband held up his hand like a stop sign.

“Shhhh.”

As if I didn’t already know that cats like slowness and deliberation.

Technically, he never was the cat person even though he is the one who saw this cat. So that’s something.

It was just two months ago when I’d briefly considered adopting a cat from a shelter because of the pandemic. Our family cat had died last summer.

Should we or shouldn’t we?

I decided I liked having unscratched furniture. The absence of a litter box. So I stopped looking at the “foster a cat” websites.

But a cat showing up on its own accord? This was another story.

This meant something.

I followed my husband to the side of the shed.

“Right there,” he pointed. “A head poked out.”

Nothing there. We waited.

And waited.

I turned to walk away. I know cats are skittish.

“There it is” my husband forcefully whispered. I turned around.

(This should tell you what a smart cat this is to stick its head out for my husband to find.)

This cat knows that when the not a cat person finds and rescues you they will become a cat person.

You will be their treasure.

Food, the cat needs food. I sensed it.

“What do cats eat when you don’t have cat food,” I googled.

I hurried to the house, found some deli turkey, put it on a paper plate. I found a plastic container for water.

There at the shed, I set down the water, the turkey. I backed away, sure it would be a while.

Not one second later the cat’s head shot out, grabbed the turkey, went back under. Fast cat.

“Get the tin of herring” I shouted to whichever of my boys was within earshot.

“What for?”

“We have a cat!”

“A cat?”

“Are you sure?”

He started heading to the shed and not to the pantry.

A cat showing up at our house was an event. We do not live in a cat neighborhood.

“Get that herring!”

We have foxes. A coyote here and there. Most recently even two fighting raccoons. Why would a starving cat move under our shed?

The herring was smoked.

“Can a cat eat smoked herring?” I googled.

“Don’t we have tuna fish?” I sent my son back inside to look.

We were so unready for this cat.

I felt as desperate as the cat, wanted her to know she was safe.

That she was right to show up here. But she already knew this, apparently.

“We have these.”

My son handed me a tin of anchovies. I had been planning on using them for Caesar salad.

I set the small oily fish on the rock by the shed.

Out came her head, fast as before.

I went closer, then closer.

Anchovy after anchovy until she came completely into the light.

And grabbed them from my hand.

She is tortoise color, this cat.

Tortoise colored cats, according to Wikipedia, bring good luck.

She is dainty and didn’t even have one flea.

Of course, we posted her photo to all the lost and found groups. But no one has claimed her. She has no microchip.

But she purrs when you hold her and sleeps in her new soft bed.