The Cat That Came for the Summer

A story for anyone who has ever lost an animal they loved.

I had always thought of it as a sort of arranged marriage. I didn't expect love.

You had always lived inside, sitting on a window ledge, tail twitching, staring longingly at the world beyond.

I had always lived outside, tending the big garden in my pajamas at dawn, and fighting off the invaders. 

And so you arrived in June, a gift from the apartment dweller who felt sorry for you.

We had a simple arrangement, you and I:

You, brown tiger, could live in my jungle. In return, you would guard it from invaders.

As the sun rose each day, you would stealth among the giant zucchini leaves, leaping high into the air when a finch landed on the sunflowers. You would stare at the gopher hole with unwavering attention for hours on end.

In the evenings, you would pretend to sleep under the cool redwoods while I drank my wine nearby. You were always there, a few steps ahead of me as we watered and fertilized.

You thought it was your job to de-tail every lizard. You thought the weeds were cat salad. You thought sharing your kingdom with the wolf-dog was a small price to pay for the delicious freedom from apartment living.

You thought the compost pile was your litter box.

You got braver by the day, taunting the wolf dog, lounging on the rooftops, and exploring ever farther away.

You dragged yourself home once after a nasty fight, and didn't get up for three days.

All we did was laugh...(nine lives and all of that).

One morning as I was bent over picking tomatoes, you rubbed against me. You purred for the first time. At that very moment, I knew it was no longer an arrangement.

 Because we had fallen in love.

Summer sped by, as it always does. I started preparing the garden for the winter by pulling out the spent plants.

Maybe you thought your job was over. Maybe you thought it was just a summer fling. Because one night you left, and never came back.

They say if you love something, let it go free. But what if granting freedom means you lose what you love?

Little brown tiger, friend and companion,  I thought you would be purring on my lap as we watched the blaze in the fireplace and the lights twinkling. I figured you and I were more than just a summer fling.

And outside, the garden is nearly barren.

Because you are gone.

Written by Janet Guilbault, Mortgage Banker/Broker based out of the San Francisco Bay Area.