People have different reactions when their cats are lost. Some may not even notice the cat is gone, or they might be relieved and hope it doesn’t come back. After all the cat had just shown up, probably dropped off on our back country road, since it was no longer a cute kitten. Though half grown it was still a beautiful calico cat that was crying pitifully, and so friendly, that it had been let in the house and fed. It had clearly been someone’s pet. We couldn’t find the owner.

We already have two extremely friendly cats which hunt rats in the barn, and unfortunately, also the birds that come to our feeder. We had long ago taken pity on some almost starved, dropped off grey kittens, which lived, grew up, and had kittens. The farmer next door agreed to take most of them and we are left with two. Both have been to the vet and altered to be sure we will have no more kittens. With no enemies, not even a dog, the cats were content in each other’s company, purring and sometimes begging for the cheap, dry, cat food which we give them to supplement their hunting. They don’t come into the house.

We certainly didn’t need another cute cat, though it enthusiastically ate the cheap cat food, got acquainted with the dog, and moved into our warm farm kitchen, curling up to sleep on the rug near the stove.

I moved the young cat out to the barn, and dropped it behind the bales of straw on some hay. It could be a barn cat and feed itself. We had not chosen to have another cat, and I closed the barn door. Maybe it would just go away that night.

When I went to feed the other animals in the barn the cat was still there, not at all afraid of me. “Good, you just live out here, and don’t come crying at our door for food. You are not mine.” I didn’t feed the cat, but had to close the door quickly to keep it from following me back to the house. I hadn’t bought her.

Both our cats got up out of their warm box to intercept me in the garage. Choco was purring, stretching up to greet me, wanting to be fed. I briefly rubbed his head while taking off my boots. He purred even more loudly, but shook his head to re-arrange his fur, reaching out with his paw to grab at my pant leg as I went in, closing the kitchen door. I came back with their food.

The grandkids came over to ride their bikes and check on Grandpa’s animals. They were full of chatter as usual and told us that a cat had followed them to their house too. Of course they had to see the calico cat.

I found some cat food in a dish where the cat had curled up in the barn behind the straw. Ellen had thought of the kitten and fed it. The cat didn’t mind being fed, even thought I had told it to get its own food. Laurel made friends with the cat and it began following her everywhere, even when she ran all the way around the house. She was delighted and told her brother he could have the goat, Bean Sprout, to follow him around.

Now the goat had become part of our menagerie and she was mine. I had originally bought her because our granddaughter, Rethy, was coming to visit us from California, and Ellen and I knew she would enjoy having a goat to play with during the summer. Rethy had returned home and left the goat for Laurel who informed me the goat was hers now, because Rethy gave it to her, and I could take care of it.

When the grandkids went home it wasn’t easy to catch the cat, but I was determined that it was not to become our pet just because it was cute. After all it was a calico cat, and with that coloration it would inevitably have kittens. I carried it by the scruff of its neck back outside, dropped it in the back half of the barn, with the other animals, and quickly closed the door. It was getting cuter all the time, and it had adopted our granddaughter. Don’t we get to choose our own pets, or are they just dumped on us?

When the grandkids came over the next time, we found out that the other cat that had been dropped off on the road and followed Laurel home, was gone. Their dad had no barn, and he was tired of its crying at the front door, so he took it for a ride, to a farm he knew, that had lots of cats. He hadn’t chosen to have a pet cat, so that one had an opportunity to become a barn cat.

Calico was as happy as Laurel. They played together, a little girl playing with Grandpa’s new pet, only it wasn’t my pet. I did take a handful of dry cat food to the barn so it wouldn’t starve.

While we were on our trip, the little girl, her big and little brothers, with their dad, took care of Grandpa’s animals, plus the cat that wasn’t mine. When we came back the cat was gone. I took the unused cat dish from the barn back to the house. I wasn’t at all upset, just relieved that I didn’t have to deal with it anymore. I hadn’t chosen that cat, though it was a very nice young cat.

I found out that the cat had followed Laurel back to her home, where her daddy had already demonstrated that they didn’t want a pet cat. Calico didn’t end up with her littermate at the farm but was taken by a visiting family member to give to a friend who wanted a cat.

Cute kittens are hard to resist, because they are cute. If they are trained and treasured as they grow up, they may become true companions. If they welcome their lonely owner home and always want to be with them, returning the affection lavished on them, they are treated as more than a pet, even as a member of the family. Even when the lonely owner is married, and has her own child, the cat may behave so well that she is still included.

Lady was such a cat, a beautiful, impeccably clean, soft cat. She was quiet and careful, coming gently to offer herself to receive affection, to lean into the caressing hand, and return the gesture by lifting her head and arching her neck. The light orange and white pattern could not truly be compared to a tiger’s markings; they were too delicately blended. She also had the whitest face, bib, and front paw I have ever seen, immaculate from her meticulous grooming. She also knew how to play, demonstrating all the quick skills that make cats the hunters they are, though she never caught the darting laser dot, dancing around the room, as directed by her master.

It was easy to see why she would never be left behind, anywhere, no matter where the family traveled. Every requirement, every inoculation, every precaution had been taken to be sure no one could deny her status as their pet, securely a part of the family as long as she lived. Nothing was seen as an inconvenience when it came to giving Lady the life Calico must have been dreaming about.

She was still a cat as far as I could see. Where do cats get such expectations? Maybe we just imagine they serenely accept and understand everything. We can’t give them attributes they don’t have, but they do seem to be created to be pets.

When their family visit with us was coming to an end the question as to what to do with the cat was inevitable. By now she was obviously feeling at home, whatever that is for a pampered cat. We didn’t offer to add another cat to those who were at home in their cardboard box in our garage, accustomed to life outside, fulfilling a role we appreciated, though not the footprints on the irresistibly warm hood of the car.

International flights and overseas connections with an intermediate one week stop, sounded to me like insurmountable obstacles to take Lady along, yet all the inoculations for the cat were put in order. Pets accompanying international travelers are no longer seen as strange and unusual, so all the arrangements were made.

The late arrival of visas for the people is what complicated things, so an alternate plan was conceived. Lady was to travel with another family to reunite with her owners when they would later meet overseas. Lady accepted her small travel case, lined with warm blankets and was in the car ready to travel. The vet had even supplied a calming fragrance proven to remove stress from a traveling pet.

Prolonged family goodbyes could be blamed for the surge of pity felt for the caged cat. Lady appreciated the tender touch and gentle hands that took her from the cage to be held and softly hugged while the last goodbyes were being said.

She was just a cat after all, and everything was strange. Her concept of security was lost. Her instinct was to flee, and she was so quick to do so that none could stop her. She disappeared into the pine woods, then into the thick, thorny marsh undergrowth.

I’m sure she recognized some of the voices calling out to her but she was nowhere to be seen and didn’t respond. It was thought that she might respond to her owner’s voices. The fidelity of their voices from the IPhone must have been faulty, as there was no response. Hiking out into the muddy swamp was tried, of course with no hope of success as a cat will not be caught, contrary to her choice, not even if called by her name. Lady was lost.

On the long trip to JFK airport we all speculated as to what might happen to her, and could only conclude that cats do have an uncanny survival instinct. She might find a friendly neighbor’s door. After all, Calico had done rather well.

Lady’s paws had never been muddy, and she had escaped into an area where black muck prevailed. Though she was quick, she had never faced the necessity of catching her own food. She had submitted regularly to the clipping of her sharp claws and thus was handicapped. She knew nothing of the bobcats that lived in the swamp. The coyotes that yipped and howled at night could find her easy prey.

It was pouring rain when we drove the long miles back from JFK, to the farm.

The next day we checked with all the neighbors only to find that none had seen the missing cat. One reported that she had heard the coyotes that night and seen lots of lightning. What to do with the cat had been taken out of our hands. After all it was just a cat.

Maybe it would come wandering home, muddy, bedraggled, thin, and hungry, hoping to find food. I recalled the story, the Incredible Journey, and other similar tales where pets unexpectedly found their way home. In that case Lady should show up rather quickly as the swamp is less than one quarter of a mile away. She didn’t.

The days passed and we forgot about the cat. If she did show up, we still had no idea what we might do with her. At least she would produce no kittens. If someone wanted her she would certainly have made a nice pet.

Years ago farmers dealt with unwanted kittens very practically, though their kids were usually delighted when they found a batch the mother cat had hidden in the haymow. The farmer was free to dispatch stray cats as he saw fit. He was exercising his responsibility to have dominion over what had been committed to him.

Now, those who understand very little about the difference between animals and people, are making rules as to how unwanted animals are to be treated. It is called humane euthanasia, if done by a registered agency as a last resort.

What is being done with unwanted children, before or after they are born, shows a total lack of understanding of the fact that man and animals are different. How can killing a baby ever be humane? Man was created in the image of God, with the ability to repent of his refusal to acknowledge God’s existence, humble himself, and, with God’s help, find the salvation God has provided.

Cats never repent, only come when they feel like it, and are totally self-centered, but the beautiful cat that disappeared into the marsh did not die there.

One morning Ellen heard the nearly silent cry of a cat from behind the basement door. When she opened it there was Lady, looking exactly like she did when she previously had padded softly downstairs from her pampered existence upstairs.

Lady wasn’t home, but she had come back to what had been her home when her people were here. She accepted the dish of her food, eating daintily as though she had never been gone.

The picture of her shared on Instagram with the family got a response from our granddaughter who was a little lonesome.

Lady was wanted. She became a perfect pet again.