Thursday, December 07, 2006

How do they know?

This morning sometime before 6:00, I was awakened by pitiful squeaky crying. Sounded like a kitten and I immediately flashed back to last January when we found an 8 week baby on the front porch.

I ran to the front door (without my glasses/contacts--really helpful since I am so blind I wouldn't be able to see anything) but found our Mini (who is a squeaker) staring out the front window next to the door. I leveraged her out of the way and saw a shadow of a kitty face just outside. David followed me and he went out as I ran to clear all breakables and rugs from the guest bathroom (aka kitty kwarantine) so we could whisk it right in upon entry.

The cat did not run, it allowed him to pet it, and then slipped under the chair on the porch for shelter from the wind. Obviously it was not feral.

I grabbed my glasses and ran back to finish cat-proofing the bathroom. When I was done I stepped out onto the front porch to see the baby. It was full grown and looked, in the dark, a lot like the cat next door. When I saw her paws and watched her turn and walk, I realized it WAS the cat from next door.

“Sassy!” I called, and she perked right up, squeaked and purred and headed back to me doing that pony hop. She’s a squeaker, too. Just like Mini, hence he chorus that sounded like a desperate kitten that woke us up.

Yes, the cat from next door, and her “sister” Daphne, have the house to themselves. They’re de-clawed and need of a home. Mummy and Daddy adopted two more human children this fall and when they moved to their new home, realized from the timing of the daughter’s symptoms, that she was highly allergic to the cats. Sassy and Daphne have been living next door, a house to themselves, while we try to find someone who can adopt two lovely girls with no claws. I go over and visit occasionally, and their mummy and daddy take them food and water and play with them, too. Obviously someone must have been over to feed them yesterday or last night and Sassy must have slipped out without their knowing.

I picked her up and cuddled her, purring to reassure her, and took her into the bathroom with David corralled our troops and got some food and water. I called Sassy’s family to let her know we had found her and she was fine and we’d take her back to the house.

We took her back, and found Daphne frightened and alone, hiding in the loo. We re-united them and all was well when we left.

Milo, I think our houses must be marked by hobos (or the cats themselves) in the old “hobo code”. Note the sign for “kind lady”, (or perhaps in these modern days, a cat lover) resides here: Hobo Code and that is how they find us.


As a postscript, if there’s a regular reader out their who might take pity and be interested in a couple of loving cats that need a home, their Daddy told me he’d buy a hunky gift certificate for the new parents to get food a plenty for the girls to get started in their new home. I’ll bet that could be traded in for shipping costs if someone out of town or out of state might be feeling the holiday spirit and would like to meet a plane with two adoptees ready for their forever home. They've always depended on the kindness of strangers... Bill Frist need not apply…

Milo queried some of us recently, wondering how cats in distress know which house to target for rescue...

2 Comments:

Blogger Milo Johnson said...

Sassy looks a lot like my new visitor, status still to be determined.

8:22 PM  
Blogger Mary K. Goddard said...

hmm...sort of a parallel universe thing going, eh?

1:43 PM  

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