Double Duty {Insp}

"Double Duty"

       As a member of a "dog family," I had long been
  conditioned to believe that cats simply didn't possess the
  ability or desire to be loving companions. This belief was
  so deeply ingrained that, while I didn't actually dislike
  cats, I found them, for the most part, uninteresting.
       Arriving home from work one afternoon, I discovered a
  cat at my doorstep. I ignored him, but apparently he was not
  offended, because he was there again the following day.
       "I'll pet you," I told him, "but there's no way you're
  coming in."
       Then one night soon after, as the rain beat down and
  thunder clapped, I heard a faint meow. I couldn't take it
  anymore; I became a cat owner.
       My new roommate, now named Shotzy, quickly became more
  than just a stray cat to feed. I liked the way his soft
  purring greeted me every morning and the way he nudged his
  head against my leg when I came home each day. His playful
  antics made me laugh, and soon Shotzy seemed more like a
  longtime friend than a pet I hadn't really wanted.
  Although I suspected Shotzy had been an outdoor cat for a
  good portion of his life, he seemed perfectly content to
  stay inside, except for one remarkable exception. As if an
  alarm had gone off, at about 6 o'clock every night he'd cry
  to go out. Then, almost exactly one hour later, he'd be
  back. He did this for several months before I finally
  discovered what he had been up to.
       One day a neighbor who knew about Shotzy showing up at
  my doorstep told me she thought the cat might belong to an
  elderly woman who lived down the street. Worried that I had
  mistakenly adopted someone's pet, I took Shotzy to the
  woman's house the next day.
       When a white-haired woman opened the door, Shotzy
  bolted from my arms, ran into the house and made himself at
  home in a big recliner. The woman just threw her head back
  and laughed, saying, "Jimmy always did love his chair."
       My heart sank - my Shotzy was obviously her Jimmy.
       I explained I had taken him in and only discovered the
  day before that he may have already had a home. Again, the
  old woman chuckled. She invited me in and explained that the
  cat did not belong to her.
       "But, I thought you called him Jimmy," I questioned.
       The woman, who said her name was Mary, explained that
  Jimmy was her husband's name. He had died about a year
  before, just a few months after being diagnosed with cancer.
       Before Jimmy died, he and Mary would eat dinner at 5
  o'clock every night. Afterward, they would retire to the
  living room, Jimmy to his favorite chair, to talk about the
  day's events. The couple had followed that routine every
  night for the 60 years they were married. After Jimmy's
  death, with no other family nearby, Mary said she just felt
  lost. And more than anything, she missed their nightly
  after-dinner talks.
       Then one night a stray cat meowed demandingly at her
  screen door. When she cracked open the door to shoo him
  away, he ran straight to Jimmy's chair and made himself
  comfortable, as if he had lived there forever.
       Mary, who had never had a pet in her life, found
  herself smiling at the animal. She gave him a little milk
  and then he cuddled on her lap. She talked to him about her
  life, but mostly about Jimmy. At about 7 o'clock, at which
  time she normally turned on the TV and made herself some hot
  tea, the creature slipped off her lap and went to the door.
  At 6 o'clock the next evening, the cat was back. Soon,
  Shotzy and Mary had their own routine.
       "Now, I believe in the Good Lord," Mary told me. "I
  don't know about all that reincarnation stuff, but sometimes
  it feels just like I'm talking to Jimmy when that little cat
  is here. I know that sounds strange, and I guess it doesn't
  really matter; what's important is that the cat is a real
  comfort to me. But it's interesting to think on, all the
  same."
       So Mary and I continued to share Shotzy. At my house,
  he revealed to me the many daily joys that come with living
  with a cat. At Mary's, his presence served to fill the six
  o'clock hour with happy companionship.
       Our marvelous cat seemed to have an uncanny knack for
  always being in the right place at the right time.

                   Lisa Hurt
       Chicken Soup for the Dog & Cat Lover's Soul
  by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Marty Becker, D.V.M.
  and Carol Kline
  Copyright 1999 Canfield and Hansen. All rights reserved.
Received on Sun Nov 7 02:17:21 2004