Spats

Tales from the Backyard…While on the road (working a different park than where I was stationed) I got a kitten, a black Maine Coon with white face, chest and paws, we called her Spats.  She was one of those once in a lifetime cats that was aloof but friendly, all the neighbors knew her.  She would sit outside and watch for people coming up the sidewalk and run out to greet them.  She always came when called and when I was traveling, her favorite spot was around the steering column in the instrument pocket.  One day she disappeared and the whole neighborhood was on watch, but after 2 weeks we gave up hope, thinking someone else probably wanted her more.  Then one morning on my way to work I found her on our walk, trying to crawl home, totally emaciated.  She must have gotten trapped someplace and couldn’t get out.  She died in my arms bringing her inside the house.  But she didn’t leave us; she moved with us to Staten Island and often still jumps on the bed like she used to at our Newburyport home.  The first time was when I went to bed early and I thought Tush, our new cat, jumped up and walked across the bed over to my feet, then began walking up my leg.  When he got to my hip, I reached down and said, “Hi Tush”, but there was nothing there, only empty space with footmarks in the blanket.  She doesn’t come that often anymore, maybe because of the dogs, but I know she is still around.