CAT LOVE/PUSSY GALORE

The Cat That Started it All

Pregnant and abandoned, Nonee came into our lives on velvet paws

When my husband and I lived in the Chicago neighborhood known as Rogers Park, we frequented a bar called Cunneen’s. In fact, that’s how I met my husband-to-be. He tended bar, there.

In those days, we could stay out until the wee hours and actually function the next day.

The night that “started it all,” it was approximately two or three in the morning when we rolled up to our vintage three-flat after a long evening of elbow-bending and convivial discourse with our fellow Cunneen’s regulars.

I recall it being a balmy evening but the exact season escapes me. What I do remember and will never forget: When I got out of the car, I heard a sound, a kind of mewling, at my feet.

I looked down, and huddled against the curb was a small cat. A grayish tabby, from what I could tell, and in those days, I wasn’t the feline mavin that I am, now. All I could discern was that it was gray, with some stripes.

But, I was, and always have been, an animal lover, so the sight of that little being touched me. Immediately. My husband was already loping towards the front door of the building when I picked up the cat and it immediately settled into my arms and searched my face with luminous eyes that pleaded, “Take me in, please.”

My heart broke as I didn’t know what to do. My husband called out to me to “put the cat down and come inside.”

Before I go on, it must be noted that he, too, is an animal lover but both of us had grown up with dogs and at that point, had never entertained the notion of bringing a cat into our lives.

When I was single, I did have a brief relationship with a kitty that I’d found on a beach near my apartment. I brought the cat home with me, but when I moved out — one of my many moves — I let my roommate keep her.

So, at that point, over thirty years ago, I didn’t know, or understand how a cat could change my life and make me rethink everything I thought I knew about these amazing creatures. And amazing they are. Masterpieces of form and function and so very, very soulful.

And, contrary to what many believe, they feel love and express it, in turn. I have been the benefactor of that love for what feels like forever, and it’s blessed and sustained me during my darkest hours.

Whenever I hear someone intone that cats are “selfish,” it makes me fighting mad because to make such an assumption based on hearsay is not only stupid but cruel. I liken it to people who condemn pit bulls as a breed without factoring in the human element. The cruelty that we can bestow on creatures that share our world. It’s we, the people, who fuck things up.

As I didn’t know what else to do that night, I put the little cat down and made my way to our apartment. With every step, I felt worse about myself. I was a monster who left helpless animals to fend for themselves.

When the lobby door closed behind me, I turned and snuck a peek, and there the cat was. It had followed me to the door and was looking up at me, beseechingly.

At that moment, I decided I couldn’t leave it and instead, gathered it up in my arms and made a comfy spot for it in the laundry room. I say “it” because I had no idea if it was a male or female.

Then, I ran upstairs to our third-floor flat, grabbed a can of tuna, and brought it back down to the cat’s hidey-hole where it gobbled up the entire can in about three minutes flat. After that, it was time for a snooze. For both of us.

The next morning, as I was trying to figure out what to do, my husband beat me to it and said, “bring the cat upstairs.”

And that was it. “Nonee,” as we came to call her (pronounced no-nee), was ours forever.

We decided that the first order of business was to take our precious little gift to a veterinarian to make sure everything was ship-shape. It turns out that she had just birthed a litter of kittens, which she had been nursing!

My husband and I searched everywhere for them, to no avail. Our guess was that she and her babies had been abandoned, as there was nothing feral about her, nor anything to suggest that she had been on the streets for a long time. And, she was young.

Nonee gave us so much and asked for so little in return. A head scratch here, a treat or two, there, a cozy bed to snuggle in (ours).

She could also be a little dickens in that, if she wanted to go off by herself and find a quiet corner of our apartment to enjoy some “alone time,” it was nearly impossible to find her until she decided to wander out from wherever she’d been chilling.

At least a couple of times, I ran out of our apartment, galloped down the three flights of stairs, and dashed outside as I was certain she escaped, somehow.

Frantically, I’d run up and down the block searching for her, only to hear my husband call out the window, “she’s behind the desk.”

We adored her, and she, us. And, because she was our first cat, Nonee served as a kind of guide in that she taught us so much about “cattitude,” as “cat daddy” Jackson Galaxy refers to it.

And, because we were newbie cat parents, we had some missteps. Declawing being one of them. I actually cringed writing that as I would never consider having that procedure done, today. Even worse, we didn’t give it much thought as we were told by equally ignorant jerks that “this is just what people do” in order to keep their furniture intact.

Declawing is cruel. And, it’s disfiguring in that it involves the amputation of the last bone of each toe. That’s a hell of a lot more than a manicure. Also, scratching is normal cat behavior.

Your cat doesn’t intentionally set out to deface your favorite La-Z-Boy lounger. Rather, a cat will scratch to remove dead husks from its nails, stretch muscles, and also, mark territory.

I will cover such issues in subsequent stories but for now, I’ll just say that thankfully, Nonee came through the procedure without any problems, yet, still, I hope she knows how regretful we are that we had it done.

Again, we learned so much from her. She was our little angel on four paws and her passing hurts to this day because, as any cat person knows, you never got over the ones who have “crossed the Rainbow Bridge” as we like to think of it, as it comforts us. Any port in a storm, you know?

She died in my arms here, in our home in a suburb of Chicago. We moved here with Nonee, Maggie, our calico who was adopted from The Anti-Cruelty Society, and Red, our long-haired boy with the gorgeous, flame-colored coat.

Nonee was eighteen when she passed and I can’t think of that day without weeping as, we knew she was on the decline and, although we’d done everything we could, there comes that awful point of no return, when you know you have to make The Decision.

Unfortunately, I was unemployed at the time and we had one car, which my husband drove to work.

When I saw that Nonee was failing right before my eyes, I lost it. I called the vet, sobbing and he told us to bring her in. I then called my husband who immediately, left his office.

Meanwhile, I didn’t know what to do. I ran, with her in my arms from room to room, in near hysterics as I felt the life drain out of her little body.

By the time my husband walked through the door, she was gone. I sat and cradled her in my arms, devastated.

As much as I’ve tried, I haven’t forgiven myself for my behavior, when I should have done my best to help Nonee exit this world in peace. It took me weeks before I was able to gain even a semblance of normalcy.

I hope she’s forgiven me and knows that I would do anything to change the trajectory of that terrible day.

One of the reasons I launched this publication was to pay homage to Nonee and all our other cats, both then, and now. For all the years of unconditional love that I’ve received and still do, if just one story encourages a reader to visit their local shelter and adopt a cat who needs a forever home, I can’t think of a better reason for creating Pussy Galore. Or, a more meaningful way to express my gratitude for that love.

Our brood of three, Dooley, Conor, and Lorna, keep us sane in a world gone mad. I have no doubt that many of you feel the same about those animals that share your lives.

Because I’ve learned so much about cats and their care, I’ll be sharing some of that knowledge in subsequent stories. And, accordingly, I welcome any questions you may have about your own fabulous felines.

Finally, whether you’ve been owned by cats for years, or are considering bringing one into your life, and your heart, I hope you’ll follow this publication and enjoy reading about all things cat.

If you can handle it, read every one of my stories and those of other fab Medium writers. I’ll get a couple of shekels and you’ll have full access to this whole joint! https://sherrymcguinn.medium.com/membership

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.

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