Oh, To Be a Cat

Just before I open the back door to let the dogs out, I catch a glimpse of the black and white cat sitting on the deck. She's half asleep with her paws tucked neatly beneath her, idly watching the birds on the back fence but not motivated enough to stalk. At the sound of the latch turning, she whirls and takes off like a shot, scaling the back fence as if it had steps, and disappearing into the neighbor's yard. The dogs trot out, as best I can tell, completely oblivious to the missed opportunity.

Of the half dozen or so cats that regularly prowl the neighborhood, this is not one that I see very often and I like to think that even as skittish as she is, she's not homeless or feral, just something of an adventurer taking advantage of an irresponsible owner and what some would argue is a natural affinity for wanderlust. It's not a theory I hold to and for my own cats, none of whom have ever spent a single nanosecond outside on their own and never will, I prefer for them to be kept safe rather than at risk.

To my surprise, she's back the very next morning, calmly sitting in the sunlit driveway, casually washing her paws and whiskers. Once again, at the sound of the latch, she turns into a blur and races across the yard and over the fence. She leaves no trace of her trespassing and once again, the dogs seem to have no clue. For a fleeting instant, I think about leaving a dish of Friskies out for her but (thankfully) the urge passes and I settle for filling a water bowl and leaving it in a patch of shade on the deck. Mine is a well intentioned and compassionate neighborhood and there's no shortage of roaming cat feeding stations - the odds of her going hungry are somewhere between slim and absolutely none - while the odds of my being once again overrun are considerable. The twinges of guilt I feel will pass, I tell myself, she's well fed, healthy and street smart and she'll be fine.

The next time I see her, it's the morning of the 4^th of July and she's comfortably settled in the notch of the tree just the other side of the fence. This time the dogs do take notice but don't appear to care one way or the other. Each gives an obligatory bark or two, then ignore her and go about their business. She watches with a mixture of defiance and indifference, nicely backlit by the morning sun and still as a statue. It would make a good photograph but my camera is inside and knowing this cat, she wouldn't be inclined to wait. Such is the independence and the free spirited-ness of cats.