9 Lives

We had several cats growing up, none of whom ever seemed to stay very long. Our first cat, Caru, a beautiful quiet and affectionate orange and white cat, disappeared on a camping trip when I was 7 years old. I was heartbroken. Her replacement, Jerry, was a huge, long-haired slightly cranky black and white cat. Three or four years later, he, too, vanished one day and did not return.

For several years after that, we had a revolving door of cats named Kitty. Black Kitty I hung around for a bit, then took off. Rumor had it she'd gone to Hollywood to purse an acting career. A tortoise-shell kitten found in the church parking lot lasted 3 days, before she too left. Her "allergies", she explained. She loved us, but was allergic to people. That and the dust in our house aggravated her sinuses. Black Kitty II we got from the Egg Lady, who lived on a farm near Enderby. Another beautiful cat, she had a silky black coat and was very friendly. She met her untimely demise after she walked through my brother's legs, just as he was swinging a baseball bat. Again, we lost one we loved far too soon. Our final cat, Black Kitty III, was also from a farm. She liked to be stroked but not held, curled up to sleep with both of our dogs when it was cold, and stayed with us for about 10 years. Then, she too, disappeared one day, suspiciously soon after our neighbor threatened to kill her. Perhaps she was scared off, or perhaps - well, let's just hope she too made it big in Hollywood.

I don't know why we had such bad luck with cats. They were well-loved and well-taken care of. I guess some people are cat people and some people are not.