Cat-ching Fire

TaggyMy husband and I have a cat who is 14 years old. She is an orange mackeral tabby. (Mackeral is the type of pattern in the fur, mackeral  means stripes. There are also classic, spotted, and ticked tabbies.) Her name is Taggy and she’s never been all that much of a people person, er, cat. She’s also never been much of a cat cat. She took up residence with us after our son, who survived in a house fire and lost his little kitten, KG, was gifted with her as a “replacement.”  Pet lovers know that pets can’t be randomly “replaced”. The young lady had good intentions, but, the orange mackeral tabby was left at home with us when our son recovered and went about his life. He never bonded with her, nor she with any of us, really, having come from a litter of barn cats.

But, there we were with our first pet as marrieds. She still had no name, so we named her “Tag” or “Taggy” after a field hockey player whom we admired. A few years later, we moved to a house in the country. Taggy came with us.

Shortly thereafter, on the way home from church, we passed a sign that said, “Free Kittens.” We thought Taggy might need some company in the new (to us) house. We stopped and had no intention of taking one home.  We walked in and were shown a passel of kittens all rolled up around one another in a big ball on a chair. Our hearts stopped. We poked one another and I bent down to pick up a very furry, brown and black striped kitten with a high white chest and white paws. Moments later, we were in the car on the way home choosing a name for our new baby. We named him Texas. The funny thing is that Taggy hated him from the get go. But, if it wasn’t for her, we probably wouldn’t have had him in our life. But, this is a story about Taggy, not Tex.DSCN2930

Taggy has never been very nice. After we got Tex, she was relegated to the “lower level,” or the basement as some non-real estate people call it. It’s a finished basement and is heated and cooled, but she had to live separately from Tex for fear of his bodily harm. We do go down there and see her. My husband works down there frequently in his workshop and in these later years, she has started to come upstairs for short periods of time. She does not like our Maine Coon, Gryphie. But, she and Tex became pretty close to friendly in the last years of his life. It was nice to see.  If she is feeling lonely, she comes to the top of the steps. Most of the time she cries a little in a sorrowful little meow. Last night, I woke up and had to visit the necessary room. When I sat up in bed, I noticed that she was sitting at the top of the steps. Kinda unusual for her not to be meowing a little. When I returned to bed, she was still sitting there, silently. I lay down and just kept an eye on her from my bed. My eye was drawn to a shimmering light reflected on my bedroom door near where she sat. I sat up and quickly walked to the door. By the time I got there, I looked down and she was gone.

But there, flickering in the darkened living room, was the candle that I had forgotten to blow out.



3 responses to this post.

  1. I was happily surprised to see a post from you! YAY! What a wonderful story. Smart cat. Be well. ❤ ~Karen~


  2. We have three kitties, all of whom arrived under different circumstances. Slinky sounds a lot like your son’s kitty.

    I’m saddened to read about your son’s house fire and loss of his kitty. What a traumatic experience for all of you.


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