We have a terrible secret. Perry and I are cat thieves.
Never mind that it was unintentional. We did it. We stole the neighbor’s cat.
To be fair, no cat allows you to ‘own’ them. They simply let you hang out at their convenience. But even though she wasn’t really ours, this sweet, fierce and adorable feline truly made our life in the UK very full indeed.
She showed up on the day we moved in. Perry had been suffering terrible allergies during his first month in the country when we were living in a tiny flat. It had gotten so bad that he said if it kept up, he didn’t know how he would be able to live there.
I heard him call out ‘Hey, a cat!' I walked into his office and saw a beautiful, long-haired Maine Coon. He was petting the cat through the diagonal window as it perched on the ledge.
As we cooed over her, she suddenly turned and bit Perry on the hand. And I do mean BIT! She clamped down hard. He was shocked and tried shaking her off lightly, not wanting to hurt her. She released and ran away so we could inspect the damage. There was definitely broken skin, so we washed the wound with antibacterial soap and joked about the onset of cat-scratch fever.
There are two memorable outcomes as a result of this event. First, Perry ceased to have severe allergies after that incident. I’m definitely not a believer in miracle cures. However, I’m telling you that the same man who could not sleep in a house with a cat without sneezing fits was transformed into someone who could overnight in a pet shop with nary a sniffle.
The second memorable outcome is that despite the inauspicious start, this little kitty became a member of the family.
She kept coming back and while we were certainly wary of her, she allowed us a few limited head scratches accompanied by a few cat treats. This evolved into a bit of dry food in our house and a short lap pit stop, which progressed into afternoon naps, which progressed into regular overnights and feedings.
As we are creative geniuses, we named the kitty Puss or PEC, short for Puss E. Cat.
It took awhile to figure out her gender. We sat in front of a computer one day trying to figure out how to type in a search without looking like animal perverts. I’m sure we are on some government list. Ultimately, we determined she was a girl and she was fixed.
We suspected she must belong to someone in the neighborhood and began to ask our neighbors ‘Is this your cat?’ All admitted feeding her from time to time but generally felt she was a free spirit just moving between homes. Good enough to carry on.
We were smitten with our little friend. We invested in some gear- toys, catnip and many types of treats. She became the focal point of our conversations, which usually began with ‘Let me tell you what the cat did today.’ Perry often sent me photos of her when I traveled on business trips.
Sad, I know.
We settled into a bit of a routine. She jumped onto the ledge outside the kitchen window in the morning to be let in. She would eat and then find a favorite sleeping spot, which she rotated every couple of weeks. She would stand in front of the door when she wanted to be let out. Back through the kitchen window in the early evening and finally awaken us at 3:30 am by pouncing on our heads. Perry would then let her out because he is the best.
Signs of the original little biter emerged from time to time. She was prone to attack bare feet if you walked over her. Sometimes, a sweet session of lap petting would turn ugly if she suddenly decided to swipe at you for petting her. We joked about the cat’s toughness. We nicknamed her the ‘Regulator’ as she ruled the neighborhood. Birds, cats and people- we all lived in a bit of fear and admiration of this adorable little assassin.
Things were uneventful for nearly a year until we made a short three-day trip out of town.
I had ordered something from Amazon and found a slip on the door when we returned. It was at #8, the neighbor’s house three doors down from us. Recently, we became suspicious that this was Puss’ real home as Perry noted how a little girl from that house picked up the cat at the playground across the street and walked with her in her arms. Remember, this was the cat that would rip your face off if you looked at her the wrong way.
The next morning, after returning from the gym, there was a knock at the door. It was the neighbor from #8 with our package, a lovely woman named Liz. While she was handing it over to me, Puss walked, nay, sauntered past Liz and over to her bowl where she began to eat. I noticed a strange look from the neighbor, so I cut in- ‘Do you know where this cat belongs? She is such a sweet little thing and we just adore her but she isn’t ours and…’
The reply was swift. ‘Oh, yes, she’s ours’.
The embarrassment was palpable and I could feel the red creeping up my cheeks. I stammered over profuse apologies and tried to explain. Liz was completely gracious. She said the cat didn’t like spending time in the house, as she hated the dog and other cat. Turns out, the cat’s real name is Bella, but she is informally known as Fluffy Cat. Her sister is Smooth Cat. I liked the idea that our cat had aliases and two families. Very MI6.
After that, our relationship with the cat was in the open and we became friends with Liz. Last Christmas we received a card signed ‘To Number 2 and Bella the Cat. From Number 8 and Bella the Cat’.
I really miss her, so Perry made a video. http://vimeo.com/106996425