The Tale of the New Year’s Cat

By Gordon Hopkins So, let's see. It is the first column of the new year. What should I write about? News that is epic. Unprecedented. Historic. Important news that will undoubtedly impact every man, woman and child in this country, possibly for years to come.Or I can write about cats.I intended to finish out 2022 in the traditional manner. I planned to stay home with my cats and fall asleep before midnight. That didn't mean I couldn't ring in the new year. Puerto Rico is two hours ahead of Fairbury, after all. I have stayed up past ten before.The sun went down and as I enjoyed my traditional December 31st pot pie, fresh from the oven, I could hear fireworks going off around the neighborhood. Fireworks can be a problem for a lot of pet owners. The image of dogs and cats cowering, trembling at the bangs and flashes is heartbreaking for animal lovers.I'm one of the fortunate ones. My cats don't seem to get especially upset at all those glittery explosions. That isn't to say they don't make my cats a bit tense. I came up behind Groucho (the black cat), touched him gently with one finger and he nearly jumped into a different time zone. Mostly, though, they just want to see what's going on. Whenever fireworks are going off in my neighborhood, the cats sit in the living room window and watch the show. This time, much to my surprise, between booms, I heard a weak, piteous meow.Uh oh. Was one of my cats getting scared? Then I realized my cats weren't looking up into the sky, where the glowing globs of molten color could be seen. They were looking down. Down into the darkness of my front porch.And they were growling.I heard another sad, scared-sounding meow. I opened be front door and, sure enough, I saw in the blackness a pair of wide, yellow eyes. The first thought that jumped into my head was, “Oh no. Not again.”It must be a neighborhood cat, scared by the fireworks and looking for shelter.I heard another meow and, this time, a little tinkle along with it. “A bell!” I thought. I couldn't see it in the dark but a bell meant this strange cat was wearing a collar and that meant someone owned this cat. All I had to do was read the cat's tag and find the owner. Easy Peasy.Only, I couldn't let the cat inside. My cats were growling and hissing at the uninvited interloper. Instead, I went outside and led the cat around the back of my house. The cat followed. I opened up the back door that led into the basement and the cat went downstairs with no encouragement from me needed.For the first time, I could see the cat clearly. It was solid black, smaller and a bit fluffier than either of my cats.You couldn't really hear the fireworks in my basement, so the cat visibly relaxed almost instantly. I tried to look at the collar and find an owner's name for address or phone number or something. It was something of an ordeal because this cat was so squirmy. No, the cat wasn't fighting me. Instead, the little black fluffball was ridiculously friendly, wanting to rub himself all over me and cuddle and begging for neck scratches.Eventually, I examined the collar and, while there was indeed a bell, there was no tag.Well, unless someone came to my door, looking for a lost cat, I clearly had a house guest for the night. There was no point in fighting it. I got some cat food and a bowl of water. I didn't have another litter box but I did find an old pan in the basement that might have been a roasting pan. I'm not sure. I filled it with litter.Then I left the cat alone in the basement. I stood at the top of the stairs and listened. I didn't hear any meowing or wailing, like it was trying to escape. A little later in the evening, I peeked downstairs. The food dish was empty and the cat was snoozing in an old recliner.I posted on Facebook, asking if anyone was missing a cat. The next day, I would begin in earnest looking for the cat's owners. If they couldn't be found, I would have to find another home for the cat. Either way, this cat was not staying.Not an option.I'm serious this time.…to be continued, obviously.

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