Monk

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As I was putting away the dinner, I saw the kitties lying down on the patio near where the plate would be. I went ahead and took out a couple of handfulls of kitten food. The mother grey ate a significant amount, though easily less than half. One of the baby greys pecked at it but just walked away. They didn't eat that much this morning, either. What, did they kill a squirrel today!?

They also no longer prefer the patio and the chaise lounge, opting instead for the area around the shed or along that fence, as though they only preferred the patio during the bad, rainy weather.

Well, good, so be it. Let them be more like favored squirrels rather than pet-companion cats. It's easier on the heart that way.

xXx

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Some 10,000 years ago, somewhere in the Near East, an audacious wildcat crept into one of the crude villages of early human settlers, the first to domesticate wheat and barley. There she felt safe from her many predators in the region, such as hyenas and larger cats.

The rodents that infested the settlers’ homes and granaries were sufficient prey. Seeing that she was earning her keep, the settlers tolerated her, and their children greeted her kittens with delight.

At least five females of the wildcat subspecies known as Felis silvestris lybica accomplished this delicate transition from forest to village. And from these five matriarchs all the world’s 600 million house cats are descended.

-- Nicholas Wade for The New York Times

These researchers also make a note about the cats' rather annoying independence:

Unlike other domestic animals, which were tamed by people, cats probably domesticated themselves, which could account for the haughty independence of their descendants. “The cats were adapting themselves to a new environment, so the push for domestication came from the cat side, not the human side,” Dr. Driscoll said.

They are still sort of half-wild really. I suppose we are to appreciate them for their feline beauty and grace. What an attitude!

xXx

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Now this is a real rain! It started in the middle of the night sometime, and the rain came down hard. It was not a thunderstorm, but it rained heavy and long through the night and continues to pitter-patter, picking up now and again, through the morning.

No complaints. The rain of the night before that was not more than a brief shower. We needed this storm. Now Monk definitely doesn't have to worry about watering the lawn for the rest of June. This also takes the bite out of the summer.

I worry more about the cats. During the small hours of the night on a bathroom run, I saw the mother cat with one of her greys next to her standing on a dry spot on the patio, seeming to watch the rain and the encroaching pool of water on the patio, as though it were the Great Flood and their last spot of dry land on earth was threatened to become submerged with the rest of the planet.

I have not seen the cats since waking. I can only assume they have returned to hibernation under the shed.

xXx

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I didn't see the cats all day yesterday, and today it looks like they are gone for good, leaving behind only bird corpses and bones scraped clean. It is a funny image to imagine the whole family leaving together - just packing up and going.

In order to complete the image, you should know that a father cat did seem to be around. A black cat with white paws and other small white markings. The black cat did not stay with the family in our yard during the day, but would return at night to be with his family, and then clearing out again before even Monk got up, going on his rounds, perhaps looking for better digs, as well as to bring in some bird kills possibly.

I can imagine how the big move went. I've seen the black cat operate before. When Black goes out onto the streets, he first perches underneath the truck, so that only those cat eyes hovered in the darkness. So, Black would be leading the mother and the three kittens, slowly making their way in the dog-ridden neighborhood, hiding under vehicles, until Black scouted ahead to declare the path is clear, and hence the family would make their way through the neighborhood. It's a cute picture, to see the three babies nervously and stealthily following the parent cats.

I did not want the cats to become dependent on us. We didn't want to own them. It looks like we didn't have to worry. I must confess that I'm a little disappointed. Monk only knew them for a few days, and he never did pet one, but he had already gotten a little used to them, feeding them and keeping water outside. Obviously the bond wasn't deep, and I've already come to appreciate not having to worry about them during rough and freezing weather, or having to face one of them coming down with a serious illness or an injury. I'm glad they left, kinda.

Then, this evening, as I was preparing my dinner, I saw the black cat walking across the patio on the way out. My heart picked up the pace as I expectantly checked for the kittens, but there is nothing there. After the initial disappointment, I was also sorry to think that my aww-image of the family leaving was false, thinking that Black doesn't know any more about what happened to his family than I do. Black did look a bit crestfallen. However, it occurs to me that Black may have just been dropping by for another hit of the water that Monk had been leaving out and was disappointed to see that this has become a dry run.

xXx

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The cold chill was a little biting in the pre-dawn hours after the rain, and Monk was hurting for a T-shirt. It's still like the first of April rather than the last of May. If this is global warming, this is the kind of climate change the southwest has needed, and let's have an extra helping!

Though the cats seem to think less of it and remain in hiding, presumably under the shed. I'm holding off on their meal. I'd kinda like to feed them only every other day or so, anyway. The plan was just to give them a boost in their struggles.

xXx

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Monk can see the kittens playing and scampering around so freely. Like little children. Like poor children. The world is their playground and there is nothing that they cannot do. The world is there's to conquer.

Monk can also see the lean mother cat lying stretched out nearby, like she is dead, weighed down so heavily and wearily, knowing too well that the world is not some happy playground that is here for one's own amusement, but a cold, hard place where not even food and safety are guaranteed but must be won, and won only temporarily.

xXx