The Stray Cat Refused to Leave

Cats Can’t Talk, But This One Said, “This is My House Now”

At least, I believe that’s what he said

“Like all pure creatures, cats are practical,”- William S. Burroughs

Over the years, we have always had a cat in our home. My spouse claims he is not excited about having pets, but he enjoys them once I break them in. The key is that cats are almost untrainable. You can train cats, but they do whatever they want, wherever they want.

One morning, my spouse went outside to go to work. There was a cat under his car. This cat had shining white fur with an orange mask and orange points on its paws and tail. His eyes were a strange color of yellow-orange, like a lion.

The well-groomed cat was someone’s pet. My spouse shooed the cat away and left. I did not see the cat when I left for work later that morning. We didn’t see the cat when we came home that evening. However, when my husband went out to work, the cat was back under his car the following day. That second evening, when he opened the garage door to take out the garbage, the cat darted into our garage.

I set out water and food, figuring that the cat would go home at dawn. Maybe it was a roaming cat, a renegade freelance cat, moving from house to house and owned by no one. No, it was too well-groomed for that. This cat had a home.

When I went to the garage to leave, the cat was still there, regarding me with its strange eyes, watching me as I drove away. I left the garage door open about 6 inches at the bottom. I hoped our visitor would leave during the day and go about his business.

That day, I called the animal shelters in the area to see if anyone had reported a missing white and orange tabby. No one had. That evening, I walked the neighborhood to see if there were postings, then went by the local stores to check the boards. There was no one looking for the cat.

When I returned home and opened the garage, I saw the cat hiding. I called out to my spouse and informed him that the cat was still in our garage. The cat walked over to me and bumped my legs with his head.

It flipped over and snuggled into my arms like a baby when I picked the cat up. The tabby started purring, blinking its eyes and reaching up with its paw. Oh, how cute, I thought then, I thought, oh no, no, no, you are someone else’s cat. I put the cat down and gave it more food and water.

The next day when I got out of my car and opened the entrance door to the house, the white cat ran into my home, jumped on the couch, and sat down like he owned the place. My other two cats were none to pleased with the intruder. Before the other two cats reacted, I grabbed the cat and put him in the side bathroom.

We did not need another cat. One of our current cats was busily sucking money out of our bank account. Big Boy, our smoke Persian, was receiving hydration therapy each week and special injections. We were almost eating ramen noodles to afford his care.

The new cat stared at me until I showed him where the food and water were for the cats. “Come on your highness,” I said. “Here is your tribute.”

We called the new cat Simba because of his lion eyes. Simba joined our household. I kept calling the shelters and checking the bulletin boards to see if someone reported the cat missing. We got another food dish, a cat bed, and put another blanket down in my office to make room for the newcomer. Simba dragged his blanket under my desk as the other cats claimed the spots on top of the desk.

In this way, the cat moved in. I took the cat to the vet, where he got a clean bill of health. The vet said the animal was a teenager, about two years old; the veterinarian suspected he was purebred. Someone had declawed him. I was not too fond of that.

One day when I walked into the office, three cats were lying in my chair pretending to be asleep. Those boys were not sleeping; they just wanted to cuddle in my chair. Simba was an official member of our cat family.

About a month later, we got a call from a shelter. Someone was looking for a cat that matched Simba’s description. The people went on vacation and hired someone to care for the cat. When the cat wasn’t there, the cat sitter assumed they had taken the cat with them. The man and woman came by, got Simba, and left. They were jerks.

Two days later, Simba was at our front door as I left for work. I let him in. He elegantly walked over to where his bed used to be and looked at me like I was stupid. I got Simba’s bed. I put down fresh food and water. The other two cats welcomed him home. Since the couple had not given us their information, I expected they would stop by that evening. They did. This time, they told us they lived ten houses down the block. I gave them the cat.

The following day, Simba was back. He walked around my legs twice and looked at me disdainfully. He settled. When the original owners came back, I did not give them Simba. I asked how much they wanted for the cat. I paid them. Simba was our cat. I don’t believe that Simba ever doubted that he would live with us. The humans were the ones behind the times.

Later that year, Simba helped me get a well-desired promotion. I was anxious as I needed the position upgrade in salary. The sick cat expenses were draining our savings. While interviewing for the job, I noted that the man had a professional photo of himself, his wife, and his tabby on his desk.

Before the interview started, I asked about his cat. Once he told me about his cat, I related the story of Simba to him. He asked to see pictures of our orange and white Boy, which I showed him. The cat discussion used twenty-five percent of the interview time. My answers to the “real” questions were confident and crisp.

I got that job. All cats got a special fish treat. The universe paid me back for giving the white and orange cat a forever home. Thank you, universe. Thank you very much.

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Toni Crowe retired as the Vice President of Operations to pursue her dream of being a writer. Toni has written six books, two of which won the 2019 Reader’s Choice Gold Awards. Her bestselling business book, “Bullets and Bosses Don’t Have Friends: How Do You Manage A Man Sitting With His Dick in His Hand?” was one of the winners. Her first book, “Never a $7 Whore”, was the other.

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