Cat Tales 36
When my sister died suddenly in a car accident, many of us ended up sitting in a chair across from someone who was going to put our heads back on the right way. My mothe r, though, could find no relief from the seven stages of grief, until she finally found the right psychologist, for her. The the rapist did not talk about human emotions or behavior. Instead, he sat there very calmly and told her stories about animals. He t alked about how, if an animal is hurt, othe r animals will come to help. We all thought it was a little strange, but his stories really did help Mom. She went back again and again, each time returning to us a little better than before. I have two ve ry unique cats. (These thoughts are connected; you’ll just have to give me a minute.) Sam and Oscar were barn cats, born of the same litter. This is, however, whe re their similarities end.
Sam is a very fluffy black cat who was two years old before he made his fi rst sound. He is vain to the extre me, constantly pree ning and categorically avoiding mud and the outdoors. He is as dainty and affectionate as a pampered pri ncess. If you sit down in my house, he will find a way to sit on you.
Oscar is mischievous and aloof. This scruffy, long-haired tabby enjoys sitting behind chairs or lying in the middle of the kitche n so he can hook your sock with his claws as you walk past. I think it is our stumbling and swearing he enjoys, because he also has an internal alarm clock that wakes him up every morning at 4:00. If he is in the house, he meows at the foot of my be d until I go downstairs, stumbling and swearing, to let him out. Of the 5,000 pillows and shoes I have lobbed at him at four o’clock in the morning, he has avoided all but one. He is the only cat I know that can stomp his feet. Oscar is famous for going on walkabouts and is often gone for days at a time. So I scarcely noticed when he we nt missing for a few days.
Even when my father-in-law said something about finding my cat stuck in the fence, it didn’t really register, in one ear and out the othe r.
That night I went down to the basement and noticed Oscar curled up on the ne w La -Z- Boy. The next day I made two separate tri ps to the basement. Again, Oscar was curle d up on the chair. I said something to him each time I walked past, and he lifted his head and meowed some thing in response.
On the third day, it was the same thing. “Holy cats, you’re lazy! Why don’ t you go catch some mice or something? Go make yourself useful,” I said as I walked over to hi m. At that point, the stench reached my nose, but I had no idea what it was or where it was coming from. I kneeled down to pat my cat, and he was a bag of bones. My fat cat had ribs! I stood up and called Oscar to come with me and we’ d go find something to eat. He meowed but refused to move. I decided to be nice and returne d with a saucer of milk and put it on the floor by the chair. Oscar lifted his head but did not move. Okay, I thought, if he’s going to be obstinate about it, I’ll just put him in front of the dish in a maternal “eat that” sort of way. When I tried to pick him up he made a non-catlike sound at the same time my hand found something wet.
What I found upon inspection was unreal. Oscar had no skin from the inside of his knee, up his belly and chest, to his armpit. Nothing. It was just muscle, bones, and wet stuff.
He never made a sound. He just looked at me. I brought the bowl up to hi m on the chair and laid it between his front feet. He licked slowly, ca refully, and steadily. When it seemed he was done, I put the plate on the floor and we nt to find a box and my husband. “That’s one tough cat you have,” the vet said. “But I can’t do anythi ng for him. There is no skin for me to sew togethe r. The piece is mi ssing."
"What can we do?” my husband asked. “You could put hi m down."
"Is he going to die right away?"
"Well, he’s missing half the skin on his underside. His chances aren’t great. You should put him out of his misery."
"Look, he spent three days pulling his own skin off trying to escape from a barbed wire fence. Then he spent three days in our basement. I think he deserves a fighting chance."
"The best I can do is to give him a huge dose of penicillin and send him home."
"Sold.”
Oscar made a grunting sound as the vet gave him the injection. We decided the La -Z-Boy was ruined now anyway, so we might as well put him back there. I sat beside him, stroking him, reassuring and comforting him. That’s when I noticed the stuff on the floor.
There was a little gray field mouse, dead, next to the chair. Not far away was a bunch of small chewed-up bones. Sam had been bringing Oscar food. All that time while we had been ignoring our injure d cat, his brother had bee n taking care of him. For the next week or so, we noticed Sa m was never upstairs. He spent all his time hunting for food for his brother. Over and over, he came in the cat window in the basement with a dead mouse or bird, dropped it off with Oscar, and went right back out. All the while, we continue d to bring Oscar milk and wet cat food, but that didn’t seem to matter to Sam. He was determined to kee p helping his brother. One evening I went downstairs to double -check on our patie nt. There was Sam, grooming his brother. In a way, Oscar had never looked better. His fur (what he had left) was super clean and smooth. Whe n he was satisfied with the job, Sam stretched out along his brothe r’s back and went to sleep.
The next day when I went down, Oscar meowed a greeting at me and started to sit up. He was stretching his nose tentatively over the edge of the chair, so I helped him hop down. His skinned back leg was now shorte r than the others and curled in slightly. He had to fight to keep his balance and figure out how to walk on only three legs. Slowly he made his way to the basement door, and I let him out. It was a sunny day, and I was so proud of my cat I sat down with him in the grass to see what he would do nex t. He got nagged to death is what happened next. Sam came slinking out of the orchard wi th anothe r mouse swinging from his mouth. He dropped the prize in front of his brother and proceeded to inspect every inch of the wounde d cat. When he was satisfied Oscar was all right, he headed back into the orchard to continue his hunt. For two wee ks after Oscar emerged from the basement, Sam continue d to hunt relentlessly. To this day Sam will wait patiently for the now healthy and mischievous as ever Oscar to finish eating out of the cat-food dish before he has one bite. Ani mals know how to take care of each othe r. Feed hi m, keep him clean, keep him warm, and love hi m with all your might. As a community of people, if someone we know is hurt, physically or emotionally, we bring casseroles or send cards. If we are allowed, we touch, we hug, we listen, and then we wait. We gather together at fune rals so we can circle each other’s chairs, looking for a sign that the person in pain might be in need of a new mouse. When my sister died we all circled my mother’s chair, we all brought her mice. It just took a tender- hearte d psychologist to convince her to eat one.