Cat Tales #615

Taking the trash out, I hear a plaintive meow, and thinking that one of my cats is in distress, I start looking around the trash bins, as the meowing sounds like it is coming from right next to me, but I cannot see the cat anywhere, just that disembodied crying. I remember the news story from weeks ago about a woman who stuck a cat in a trash bin, and although I appreciate it that it is most unlikely that something of the sort happened here, not having better options, with the crying still ringing in my ears, I start opening the lids and peeking inside, but there is nothing.

Considering the possibility that my ears were fooling me a little, I venture another ten yards to the front beyond the gate. The meow is closer now, and I look up and see Sammy on the roof. At the same time that I am surprised to find him there, I am touched to see that he has picked up on Willy’s old trick.

Like Willy, however, as I suppose is true of cats all over, Sammy is less certain about how to get back down. I get the step-ladder, despite my wariness over how well this will work if Sammy should take me up on my offer as I stand on the shaky steps, but I only spook him to jump off on his own, and I must say that Sammy brings a lot of panache to this tall leap and his adroit landing, much more than Willy was able to manage.

Willy, it may be remembered, was somewhat lacking in that feline grace. As a growing kitten, Willy was well behind Ash in fence climbing, and recalling the hard time he had jumping down from the roof, as well as the times he would sport a limp, he seemed to lack those uncanny cat reflexes, such as Sammy just showed off, and from a rolling fall, too!

Nevertheless, I am only reminded of how much I miss Willy. In particular, I fondly recall the way he would come to me when I took the trash out to the cub on the nights before trash day. He was a little canine in that respect. It is not something that any of these cats will do. It’s like Willy and I had a special bond, guy to guy, chums.

I dare say that I miss him almost as much as I miss Bo, and we only had Willy for a year and a summer, and it’s not like Willy and I shared the same bed, or ate our meals together side by side for nearly twenty years, but even so, even so.

Cat Tales #615

Taking the trash out, I hear a plaintive meow, and thinking that one of my cats is in distress, I start looking around the trash bins, as the meowing sounds like it is coming from right next to me, but I cannot see the cat anywhere, just that disembodied crying. I remember the news story from weeks ago about a woman who stuck a cat in a trash bin, and although I appreciate it that it is most unlikely that something of the sort happened here, not having better options, with the crying still ringing in my ears, I start opening the lids and peeking inside, but there is nothing.

Considering the possibility that my ears were fooling me a little, I venture another ten yards to the front beyond the gate. The meow is closer now, and I look up and see Sammy on the roof. At the same time that I am surprised to find him there, I am touched to see that he has picked up on Willy’s old trick.

Like Willy, however, as I suppose is true of cats all over, Sammy is less certain about how to get back down. I get the step-ladder, despite my wariness over how well this will work if Sammy should take me up on my offer as I stand on the shaky steps, but I only spook him to jump off on his own, and I must say that Sammy brings a lot of panache to this tall leap and his adroit landing, much more than Willy was able to manage.

Willy, it may be remembered, was somewhat lacking in that feline grace. As a growing kitten, Willy was well behind Ash in fence climbing, and recalling the hard time he had jumping down from the roof, as well as the times he would sport a limp, he seemed to lack those uncanny cat reflexes, such as Sammy just showed off, and from a rolling fall, too!

Nevertheless, I am only reminded of how much I miss Willy. In particular, I fondly recall the way he would come to me when I took the trash out to the cub on the nights before trash day. He was a little canine in that respect. It is not something that any of these cats will do. It’s like Willy and I had a special bond, guy to guy, chums.

I dare say that I miss him almost as much as I miss Bo, and we only had Willy for a year and a summer, and it’s not like Willy and I shared the same bed, or ate our meals together side by side for nearly twenty years, but even so, even so.