Expect the unexpected

It was 10:30 p.m. on a quiet Tuesday night when I suddenly heard meowing coming from outside my apartment. Flashlight in hand, I went out to investigate. It stopped.

“If you need help, you’ll have to come out so I can see you!”

“Meow,” it said.

Then, from underneath my neighbor’s Subaru sauntered out a stunning, long-legged orange and white cat, approaching like a dancer in my direction.

“Are you feral?” I asked.

Before I could finish the sentence, this cat, with honey-colored eyes, began circling me, gracing me with cat hugs.

“Oh dear, you’re not feral … I suppose I have to rescue you, eh?”

He stared at me as if to say, “Well, yeah!”

He was quick to accept a treat after waiting patiently for me in the driveway and walked pretty much right into the carrier I’d brought out. Stepping inside the apartment with him, my other cats seemed indifferent. If I were to write a meme for that moment it might read, “Oh boy, mom’s done it again.”

I cleared a space for him in the back room (which I wasn’t expecting to do at 11 p.m. at night) and before closing the door I scanned him. He had a microchip!

“Yay!” I thought, “I’ll be able to find his owner!”

I also took his picture and posted him on Paw Boost as “found.” The next morning the spay/neuter clinic around the corner confirmed the chip number so I called 24 Pet Watch, fully expecting that the frantic owner of this lovely, sweet boy would reach out to me and I would reunite them in a blissful Hallmark moment. So, I waited.

Two days went by and nothing. On day four, I got a possible hit on Paw Boost but it wasn’t a match. That happened two more times, leaving me disappointed and heartbroken that I couldn’t help any of these people who were looking for their beloved cats.

My hopes were further dashed when I called 24 Pet Watch to follow up and discovered the chip was mis-registered to an all-white, long-haired female cat. Word to the wise here: this doesn’t happen often but they said it’s possible, so if your pets are chipped please double check that everything’s correct and current with the registration.

I started calling him Andy, and after a couple weeks in the back room and no luck finding his owner I took him to my vet to rule out any health issues before I let him meet my other cats.

“Oh, so you’ve experienced the involuntary-cat-redistribution-system!” she said. “The what?”

In my 30 years as a cat-mom, I had never heard of that but I sure as heck recognized it. My last encounter was likely Ruby2, who stood on my front stoop on a frigid December night in 2016 meowing straight at my door. She made herself at home immediately, as if she had chosen us.

Her leather collar looked like a tiny human belt, very classy but dangerous as heck and completely useless without any identification whatsoever. Another word to the wise: even inside the house, a collar without a safety release can become a noose if your cat gets caught on something and can’t break free. A collar with no tags is useless.

Andy checked out to be a pretty healthy 4- or 5-year-old boy, except for a problem with his gut (I won’t go into detail). They recommended some prescription food that would be easy on his digestive system, but I sure wasn’t expecting to pay nearly $40 for a 4 pound bag of it — twice. (We expected the first bag to fix his issue but it didn’t). I wondered if this was what got him kicked out of his home — a sad thought that made me promise him I’d take care of him.

Once outside his room into the group milieu, Andy’s personality blossomed and went from super-chill to sometimes-chill, a bit feisty, and a little demanding at times.

I wasn’t expecting that but his beguiling looks, the range of inflection in his voice, and his playful, childlike behavior brought joy to me and, unexpectedly, to my 11-year-old former-feral, Humphrey, who buddied up with Andy quickly and started doing lots more “zoomies!”

So, although it’s still a work in progress, I think maybe I’ve come to understand the involuntary cat redistribution system a little better, and maybe it’s not just for the cat’s welfare. Maybe they choose us on purpose, somehow knowing that we need them, too.

(Colleen Dougherty is a writer, educator, artist and behavioral health therapist. She has worked and volunteered in animal welfare for more than 20 years, and has spoken at several animal welfare conferences. She holds degrees in art and counseling therapy, and graduate certificates in eco-psychology and humane education. Her passion is fostering joyful and respectful relationships between animals, humans and the earth. She’s been writing Paw it Forward since 2016.)