Pretty Little Miss Mao Cat

Hey, it is me, Mao, checking in from Purgatory.  I seem to be stuck in a holding pattern like a jet liner waiting for the Air Traffic Control to give  clearance to land safely.  It is not home, nor is it the Pet Heaven that Cat Mandu proceeded to. Maybe she had to go and prepare a place for me before I can touch down.

It seemed  the strangest things always happen to me, like losing my tail, or earth-bound one day, in the land of never, never, the next. Now I am perplexed as you are about how, why, and when I got here.  Last thing I remember is making my way down to the creek, and in a blink, I am here. Gives you cause to pause and consider your Bucket List.   As Charlie Cat mentioned, I am her sister, a splotchy, rather than sculpted Black and White, like the Brainiac Andy Cat, and the Muscle Beau Cat.

Unlike Charlie, I was easily rescued as a kitten because I was hungry and tired, tired, tired of living near scrap metal bins, avoiding noisy forklifts with back up beepers  and wheezing air brakes on diesel trucks  that had come to pick up auto parts to deliver across North America.  Any place had to beat that ear drum shattering, traffic laden land of Just In Time mayhem.

Once I was at my forever home, Momma bathed me, using Dawn Dish Detergent to remove the oil. I nuzzled her wrists and batted the water,  to show my appreciation. I was named ‘Mao’ (Not after Chairman Mao Tse Tung, but because of my pathetic little whisper of ‘mow’, not ‘meow’ when I wanted attention.

Momma always told the story about my rescue. She would explain, you know how ‘curiosity killed the cat’ –  that saying was made for me. Having already had black and white cats, she realized, although, not the most appealing to look at, we were definitely friendly and gregarious.  All Momma had to do was put a cat carrier down in the parking lot at her work, with food in it.  I walked in to get breakfast, Momma closed the door.  Momma bragged  you know, she caught me, but no, I got Momma. Cats choose their owners, owners do not choose cats.

I soon let the family know I was born to be an indoor outdoor cat.  I easily made friends with the entire neighbourhood, be it people, cats, dogs or even squirrels or raccoons.

I was the first ‘Dog/Cat’ in the family, always accompanying the family around the block when the dog was walked, or down to the corner store with Dad (God-Rest-His-Soul) for lottery tickets, well before I lost my tail, that is.  When not in the house or traveling the neighbor hood, I hopped on Momma’s car, parked in the garage, then climbed on to the boards perpendicular to the roof, making a secret resting spot on the beams. Sometimes Mr. Grey Squirrel and Mr. Black Eyed Raccoon would also be sharing the accommodation. (And you ever wonder how we get fleas?)  We were our own little gang, hanging out, creating our own fun.

Momma found out when she heard a thump at the side door, early one morning.  When she opened the door, (Let the Cat in, Let the Cat Out Routine), there stood Mr. Black Eyes Raccoon. We will never know who invited whom to the Tea Party, but we were Best Friends Forever. I got up, stretched and padded out the door and we went, on our own mission, down the sidewalk, single file, across the road to the creek. We would splash in the water, dreaming  of catching gold-fish but only managing to  scare the little ducklings who were fiercely protected by Momma Duck. We considered our selves great hunters but we never got near those ducklings because Mama Duck had an annoying quack and a wing that seemed to expand in size  to create a wall we could not penetrate.  Mr. Black Eyed Raccoon and I would then lie on the cement creek wall in the sunshine, dreaming of other fish to fry.

But life is about changes and one day my BFF disappeared.  I heard Momma tell RIP Daddy there was a raccoon, dead on the road and do you suppose it was Mr. Black Eyed Raccoon? Apparently it was, because he never came around again. Like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, we were – we ‘clambed the hills together.’ Without him in my life, I had no more adventure, no more sun bathing at the creek.  I felt lost.  When the sun was high in the sky, I would sit on the neighbor’s fence. I swear, I would squint my eyes, and I could see Mr. Black Eyes Raccoon, scurrying under the big fir-tree – but in a flash he was gone and I was alone, again.

Who knew that the outdoor life I cherished so, would be my downfall? A few years back, Momma and Wonder Boy noticed they had not seen me all day.The Search was on.  I heard them call but was too weak to respond. When I had recuperated enough, I limped back, dragging my broken tail behind me. Again you may ask, ‘Mao, how did you do that?’ I have no idea because like getting to Kitty Purgatory, I do not remember. I take the Fifth Amendment. Momma said maybe I got caught in a trap or maybe I was rolling on the road, which I did quite often, silly me, and a car drove over my tail .  Maybe the Forest Freak got crabby one night .  I do not know.

After unsuccessfully splinting my tail for a few days, the vet, removed it surgically.   Although I still went outside, I spent more time on the back of the couch in the sun room. My personality went from outgoing to withdrawn, almost antisocial.  Who knew how much a cat needs a tail? To be truthful I was always a bit clumsy but having no tail only added to the equation, making me even more wobbly.

Also that Andy, The Brainiac made my life misery – Momma thinks he is a Cat-a-Stein – I considered him a ‘Back Street Bully’, always exploiting any weakness he can find in any cat that doesn’t share his DNA (which means Beau Cat and Diva Gen get a pass).  But he is sneaky – he doesn’t do it in the presence of Momma.

Sometimes now, when the fog thins, I get a glimpse of home, I see Charlie’s neat metamorphosis from a caterpillar into a Butterfly, any memory of me seemingly expunged.  I see Andy Cat actually sniffing noses with her – but then again, only when Momma is in the room…….

PS: I will keep you updated on my progress in Kitty Purgatory. Meanwhile, pray for my deliverance. Who knew I was a practicing Catholic Kitty? I just want a fluffy pink cloud to sail on just like our Cat Mandu. Come to think of it, I can not wait to see her.

PPS:  Is that you, over there in Pet Heaven, standing beside our Cat Mandu, Mr. Black Eyed Raccoon?  Help me get out of Purgatory and over to your side.  Are there any gold-fish in Pet Heaven?