M-I-A Memoir ~ one of my own

We are purring for Mr Tigger and all missing cats in Cats-Land. Reading of this today over at ‘Life from a Cats Perspective’ and then again on 'Cats Blogosphere’ triggered something grave and long hidden in me. Before Darcy and Bingley came to live here, we used to be visited by a fluffy black cat. He came virtually every day for at least 6 years and probably more. Often, when I drew back the curtains in the morning, he would be curled up in the middle of the lawn. Initially, he would just watch us from afar, but slowly we became friends and cuddled. We nicknamed him Breezy (because of the way he breezed in and out of the garden). Breezy seemed to be groomed and fed. We got the impression someone cared for him, yet he could hardly have ever been around them because he was with us so much. We didn’t feed him and he never asked. He just cuddled. He was totally undemanding, just a dark, quiet, sweet natured, companion.

Then, one day when I came back from work I noticed he had a small wound on his back. I hoped that when he returned home his owner would notice it and have it treated. Over some days his wound gradually grew worse and then one evening when I came home from London it was looked worringly sore. I immediately began to search for where he lived. Breezy always came over the wall in the same place. I expected to be able to locate his base fairly easily, how wrong I was. I knocked on doors for over 2 hours. No one knew of him. (I met some interesting and at times slightly odd people but there-by hangs another tale). Eventually I came home and cuddled Breezy. For the first time he came inside the house (his choice) and toured the entire place before sitting quietly on the sofa. I knew he felt safe. I rang my neighbour and asked if he would assist me in driving us to the Vet. I sorted out a box in the garage. But when I came back Breezy was gone. I searched the garden. Nothing.

I never saw him again, though I looked for him every day. I have been unable to reconcile my feelings. Did he make it home? Was he ever treated and if so why didn’t he reappear? My feelings at the time are too complex for me to analyse, but there is much sadness and guilt – could I have done more? I say this with a touch of hesitancy but I always wonder if I should have taken him in properly earlier. I held back because he was clearly groomed and fed. Anyway, I shall never know and time has mixed its sedative and so now, with this post I shall imagine Breezy in ‘Cats-Land’ with Mr Tigger et al.

the one and only shot we have of Breezy