We didn’t have to take him — a small cat, 6 months to a year old, runt of the litter. \u00a0We presumed he’d been “dropped off” in the country by someone who didn’t want him.<\/p>\n
But we didn’t \u00a0have to take him. \u00a0He could have been a barn cat.<\/p>\n
But he was so sociable … we really never had any choice.<\/p>\n
A hop (on the way out of town) at a Wal-Mart to pick up a cat carrier and litter box, and we were headed home.<\/p>\n
* \u00a0 \u00a0 * \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n
Indy was always the young kitty, the small kitty, the friendly kitty. \u00a0Mist was elderly, crotchety, anti-social.<\/p>\n
Indy was \u00a0always a hunter. \u00a0Well, Mist was, too, but we figured out Indy did the majority of it.<\/p>\n
He was one of the cats Katherine grew up with<\/a>.<\/p>\n And Indy was always the young kitty, until Mist passed away<\/a>. And then, suddenly, he was the senior cat in the house.<\/p>\n A few years back, he had some sort of back<\/a> injury<\/a> (we assumed a scrape with a garage door or, perhaps, a car). \u00a0We had worried doubts, but<\/a> he<\/a> pulled<\/a> through<\/a>.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 \u00a0 * \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n Indy was the elder cat as others came in (and went).<\/p>\n And if he became a bit more\u00a0idiosyncratic, a bit more hard of hearing … well, damn, he was he was 16 years old. \u00a0He deserved it.<\/p>\n And he started being vocal and insistent upon attention. Particularly at night. \u00a0Get him to hop up on the bed, pet him a bit, let him nestle down next to you in bed, and he was okay. For a while at least. \u00a0Of course, he might hop up after a while, wander off, then wander in again in another 20 minutes, and start yowling.<\/p>\n Indy also continued to prove his physical recovery, and macho abilities. To wit, being The Mighty Hunter. \u00a0Over the last year, we got a steady stream of mice, voles, birds, and young rabbits. Which would be problematic at best, if it happened in daylight hours. In the middle of the night. \u00a0Yowling. With a bunny. Who was still alive … or, alternately, was stashed behind stuff in the closet … made for unrestful evenings.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 \u00a0 * \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n One evening, we’d had (as per summer time) the doors all open fairly late, and Indy was out in the night nowhere to be seen. \u00a0It being late, I decided it was okay to go ahead and just close up. \u00a0I didn’t want to leave things open, given that Indy had brought us several hunting gifts over the previous week. \u00a0So I closed down the human and kitty doors.<\/p>\n And we didn’t see Indy again.<\/p>\n And, yes, I feel guilty.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 \u00a0 * \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n The vets, and the shelters, all encourage you to have indoor cats. \u00a0The out-of-doors is dangerous. \u00a0And, statistically, they’re correct. \u00a0Even assuming some predator doesn’t get you, encounters with other critters and other cats and, of course, motor vehicles, all serve to shorten the lifespan.<\/p>\n But cats want to be out. \u00a0And call it appreciation for that fact, or laziness on our part, but keeping them locked up inside is just not in the cards.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 \u00a0 * \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n I did all the searchy stuff. \u00a0I reported Indy missing to the city animal control. \u00a0I checked out the websites (with photo galleries) of the local shelters. \u00a0I put a LOST CAT ad on Craigslist, and watched the FOUND CAT notices.<\/p>\n Nada.<\/p>\n It was … hard to talk about. All of us in the family were aware of it, but we just didn’t talk about it. For me, \u00a0it was that guilt, and the sense that, maybe, somehow, I should have done more, been more restrictive\/protective. \u00a0Hunted around the neighborhood. Looked more. \u00a0Cared more.<\/p>\n But … clearly … over time … \u00a0it was more and more obvious that Indy was not coming back. And, given that he was chipped, it was clear that he’d not been found and turned in somewhere, or even hit by a car and recovered via animal control.<\/p>\n Instead, I have to assume, the Hunter became the Hunted. We’ve had foxes, and coyotes, in the neighborhood. \u00a0We’ve lost other cats to nature, red of tooth and claw. That irony can’t be escaped, and the fittingness, even amidst the sorrow, remains.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 \u00a0 * \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n Indy was always nervous about food, traumatized, perhaps, by his sojourn in the farmland wild. \u00a0Upon being let into the house, he’d bee-line to the food dish, just to make sure it was there.<\/p>\n He was always more \u00a0sociable\u00a0than Mist, but in the last few ears, as the elder cat of the house, had become a snuggly cat … usually of the “stand next to you then suddenly\u00a0topple over against you” variety.<\/p>\n He was a good kitty.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 \u00a0 * \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n We rank a toast — me with champagne, Margie with some wine, Kay with some Sprite — to Indy.<\/p>\n He will be remembered.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.hill-kleerup.org\/blog\/\/images\/1e4ac24021.jpg\" "\\"Always")
<\/a> ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.hill-kleerup.org\/blog\/images\/47a91fac8a.jpg\")
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