Tonight, I was sitting in my easy chair when I saw a four-footed creature come walking through the bathroom door. Since this is how Mickey usually comes into the house, I assumed it was him. The lighting in the hallway was rather dim, though, so I couldn't see him too clearly. I called out, "Hey, buddy," and the usual things I say when trying to call him. After he got into a little more clearly lit part of the hallway, I clearly saw, this wasn't Mickey. It was a different cat altogether. This was a black cat. He had just wandered in.
I pet this new visitor and felt his body. He was very thin, bony. His vertebrae were very high up off his ribs. I was very worried for him. I tried feeding him some of Mickey's dry food, but he didn't even eat a bite. I tried feeding him some of Mickey's wet food. He didn't touch that either. I was worried. I filled up a little dish with some water and offered it to him. This time, he took some and drank. I felt better about that. I let Fergie out of my roommate's room to roam around a bit and see how she would react to our guest. She didn't seem to mind his presence too much, but she didn't want to be friends with him either. The black kitty sat on the steps leading up to our front door. I sat down by him and pet him. His purr was pretty good, which was saying something considering his meow sounded like a high-pitched quasi-"whoop" sound, like he was out of breath or something. I did everything I could to make him comfortable, but I didn't know what else to do. I really didn't think he was a stray, but I didn't know whose he might be. Fortunately, my landlord came in to use the bathroom and met him. At first, he wasn't sure either, but then he had a hunch that this cat belonged to the family on the other side of the backyard fence. Sure enough, he was right. With a little handling from me, we brought the cat back to his family. It was then I found out that when I said, "Hey buddy!" I was right on the nose. Buddy is in fact his name. And sadly, I was right about his condition. He is dying. They said he hadn't eaten anything in a couple days, but they were glad to hear he'd taken some water. As I gave him back and shook his paw, he was purring again.
I remember the whole time Buddy was in the house wondering what to do. I didn't know he wasn't a stray, but it seemed unlikely. What to make of his not eating? His whooping meow? What would happen if Mickey came in from the outside and decided he didn't like me petting and feeding another cat? Would he stay the night? So many questions I didn't have an answer to. I do remember thinking I needed to check with either the landlord or my roommate to see if they recognized him. I'm glad I didn't have to figure something out beyond that. Buddy is home.
It's also sticking with me how his family reacted. They knew he was dying, from old age, according to them. They said Buddy is fourteen. That gave me pause, because Mickey's already thirteen, and right now, showing no signs of slowing up. I didn't know what else to say to that. Old age, when he's only a year older than my cat. It also shocked me that they'd pretty much given up on his returning. They figured he'd just wander off to die, and they'd never see him again. It's a scary thought for me because of how much I love Mickey, and for how much I prefer closure and don't like to assume. I prefer to know. Even though it is likely the way of cats to do so, I really hope that when his time comes, Mickey won't just wander off, leaving me to wonder where he went. I hope he'll come to me and let me close his eyes and bury his body. He'd probably want to spare me that. I hope he doesn't. We're a package deal, together to the end, and I would hope to know it's the end when that time comes.
I'm also reminded of the saying that kindness is never a wasted effort. Even though he wouldn't eat the food, it gladdened the hearts of his family to know that Buddy drank some water, the most he'd ingested in a couple days. Shaking his paw, hearing him purr, knowing he was happy, and the happiness when he was returned to his family, I guess it is true that the kindness wasn't futile after all. I can't prevent death, probably didn't even stave it off a full hour, but no one asked me to do that either. Some water for a suffering animal may be all that's required of me in this instant.
And if I may anthropomorphise Buddy for a moment, I might conjecture that feeling like he's not long for this world, he decided to take a chance and go somewhere new, satisfy one last curious itch, and see what was in that window, and in doing so, made one more friend. Maybe we should all live that way.
Don't know if I'll see Buddy again, but as I type this, there's a little buddy sitting on the arm of my chair, wanting some love and attention.
And that's tonight's discourse in philosophy.
