Keryn and the Kitty

"Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a [cat] to tear."

-Rudyard Kipling

(Apologies to Kipling and all the dog people in the world.)

Yesterday as we prepared to leave for church, my children discovered a sweet tortoiseshell cat lurking in our yard. She wasn't much bigger than a kitten and had no collar, but was completely fearless around us. She even let my four-year-old Em pick her up--and Em is not particularly adept at picking up cats, not having been around them much. With difficulty we pried them away from the kitty and walked up to church.

After church, the cat was still around the house. Zee, Em, and Gee were ecstatic. They played outside, during the hottest part of the day, during the hottest part of the year, for more than an hour--putting the kitty in the "kitty house" (the play slide structure), following her around, picking her up, giving her water, and feeding her their lunch--chicken nuggets.

Meanwhile, in the house, there was much angst on my part. Bradley loves to tease me, and he kept mentioning how much fun the kids were having, how they were calling the cat "our cat", and how kids need a pet. And it was true--at least the parts about the joy in my children's eyes as they played with this sweet, little, wonderful cat. I was half in love with her already, and I hadn't even picked her up yet.

And yet--we can't have an indoor cat, because Bradley is mildly allergic. And I am ethically opposed to outdoor cats in the city--it's not fair to the cat (dangers and heat and cold), and it's not fair to your neighbors (fighting and yowling and digging and pooping). Taking in a stray isn't free, either--we'd need to get her fixed and vaccinated and checked out and licensed and tagged.

My head was definitely convinced, but my heart was unsure. However, when at last my children came in the house, bubbling over with stories about their kitty, I gently reminded them that she wasn't our kitty, that she belonged to someone else (someone else who probably abandoned her, grrrrrrrr), and that she needed to go back to her family.

That evening I went outside to put the garbage cans down to the street, and there she was, hanging wistfully around the side door. She looked so hungry! Putting aside my better judgment, I placed a can of tuna on a paper plate and set it next to her. Immediately, she began devouring it, her purrs audible. Later that night, she poked around at the screens to our (open) bedroom windows.

When Em woke up this morning, one of the first things she said was "Can I go outside to see our cat?" And, sure enough, to Em's joy, the cat was still hanging around, this time trying to get in the house when we opened the doors.

It was obvious that this cat had been with a family--she was so patient with children and so tame. She let me pick her up and carry her around. She was even used to going inside houses. Maybe we were wrong, and someone really was missing her.

So I called around to my neighbors, asking if anyone had lost a cat. We even walked around the block, asking anyone we could. No luck. And meanwhile, the kitty was worming her way into our hearts--even Daddy thought she was cute.

But we knew we couldn't keep her. So, this afternoon, with an oddly heavy heart, I lured her into the van with another can of tuna. She was completely calm during the ride to the animal shelter--exploring the car, hopping up to sit next to the kids, and (this absolutely blew my mind) eventually ending up sitting the baby's carseat, on Hebs' lap, letting my nine-month-old infant tug and push and play with her ears! He was thrilled, and she was perfectly calm.

I nearly cried as I handed her over to the kind gentleman at the shelter. I tried to make sure he knew how gentle, tame, and perfect she was, how she would be an amazing family cat. He, in turn, comforted me with understanding that we couldn't keep her, and told me of a woman who comes in almost weekly to rescue cats that might otherwise...not be adopted.

As we drove away, my little Em softly sobbed in her carseat in the back of the van. I wished I could cry, too, for somehow that stray cat had stolen my heart as well.