A few weeks ago our boy cat Gizmo got out. Our cats are totally spoiled indoor cats, so we panicked at the thought of him out on his own without any street smarts. He’d probably take up with the first cat who looked his way and spiral downward to start trading his body for kitty snacks.
When nighttime came and Gizmo still hadn’t found his way home, Bear went out to walk the neighborhood and try to find him. As he walked he met this little kitty, who followed him down several streets. At one intersection Bear paused to decide which way to go, and the cat bumped up against his legs until he turned right. On that block he found Gizmo, looked down, and the cat was gone.
In Mormon folklore we have this story about “the Three Nephites.” The Book of Mormon tells the story of three disciples of Christ who asked to live until He came again, and amongst ourselves we tell stories, sometimes serious, usually joking, about run-ins with mysterious helpful strangers being The Three Nephites. So when Bear found Gizmo he called me and told me about this disappearing cat, my reaction was a jokey, “Oh my gosh! It was a third Nephite Cat!” Of course, then he popped back up, but the joke remained so we named him Sam, which is a name that appears in the Book of Mormon.
I checked Craigslist, called the pound, looked for fliers, but nobody seemed to be missing this cat. Then we found another cat that looked just like him show up in our backyard. It seemed that someone had tossed out a litter. He was ours.
Normally we’ve been very picky about the breed of cats we adopt. We have had the greatest cats and we have high demands from them. I kept trying to explain to Sam that in our family, cats snuggle. But he kept wanting to just rub up without being held. Still, he was such a sweet guy and so playful, I was charmed completely.
But, every time we opened a door, Sammy would dart out and we couldn’t get him to come inside for hours and hours. One night we went on a family walk and found him playing with another family. They said he was theirs, but we could have him if we wanted him, and he was obviously not being taken care of very well. Sammy followed us on the rest of our walk home and we decided we’d keep him and get him properly looked after.
Sammy had other ideas. He had the call of the wild in him, and nothing I could do would keep him inside. And once outside, he’d be gone all day. Sammy was a desperado, refusing to be domesticated.
Ever since Cheetara died, I’ve been needing a cat to love. Jem only loves Jared, Gizmo loves Atticus, that’s part of what’s great about that breed. I was so hoping Sammy would be the cat that loved me, but he loves the great outdoors more. Sigh.