CAT AT THE DOOR
She was an old girl when we met her.
Never quite sure of her place and space, she was warm and gentle but apprehensive.
Pattycat never fully embraced the domestic life, that is, until she was injured.
We’re not sure how, but her doctor said it looked like an attack from another cat.
When we found her that night, she was hiding the way cats do when they’re dying.
I will never forget the way Jon Luke held her and wept. His tears poured over her as she lay helplessly moaning on his lap. His heart and affection for this creature leaving a lasting imprint on me.
She lived.
After care from the vet and relocating to our neighbor’s house, she lived.
Now, I don’t get to see her too often except when she sits behind the screen door of the house across the street, her small, aging body framed by the door like a picture in an art museum.
My allergies prevented her from living with us. However, there was a time when I would hold her and pet her outside, letting her rest her head on my chest.
I loved it.
Today, I just get to sit 50 yards away and see her through our dining room window.
And it makes me so happy.
Happier.
Just to know that she’s okay.
I’m not too close, not too far. In other words, I’m in love.
We are in love.
Love in companionship is always something like that: proximity and distance.
“Pure friendship,” writes Simone Weil, “simultaneously includes both affection and something like complete indifference.”
When she’s at the door, I talk to her, my words floating through the air like autumn leaves falling short of her on the sidewalk. But every time I do, I feel a rush of joy and gratitude for this cat. Just seeing her fills my heart.
Most of all, I love how she watches the kids leave and return from school with the pride and dignity of a nanny… a nanny who cared for and held them while they held her during a pandemic when they were all alone.
They see her much less, but they love her even more. And, the distance is the love.
“Sometimes to love someone, you gotta be a stranger" - Rick Deckard