The Invisible Cat
It started with footprints in the snow. As I was leaving to take the kids to school, Devon pointed to the ground and asked, "Mom, what kind of pawprints are those?" I looked down and saw a small track of prints, obviously made by a cat, lead from the road to past our front window, down through half of the front walk and back out to the road again.
"Those are cat prints," I answered. Devon sighed. "The poor thing. It must be cold." Voicing out loud what I was already thinking in my head, I nodded in agreement.
The next morning new prints had been added. "Look, Mom!" Devon exclaimed. "The cat has been back!" He was right. Freshly added tracks once again made their way past our front window and out to the road. "I bet he wants to come inside," Jillian said. "I bet you're right," I agreed. "Mom, we should try and catch him," Devon stated. "He's going to freeze with all this snow and cold." I couldn't help but agree again, yet I had never actually seen this invisible cat that was leaving prints in front of our house, much less catch him.
That night, I waited up with the lights out and the television on softly. Beastie Boy, our 11-year-old white cat, lay on the back of the couch, half of his body hidden by the vertcial blinds that encased it. He was not healthy and his favorite (and only) pastime was to look out the front window and watch the world go by, no matter what time it was. At one time, he boldly went through this world as king of the roost (hence, the name...Beastie Boy) but lately, he no longer participated, only watched.
Suddenly, I heard a low growl and saw his tail twitch from side to side. "Boy!" I warned sternly. "Behave!" He tended to be quite grumpy these days since his illness but I loved him anyway. Then almost immediately I jumped up, now remembering that the invisible cat was probably putting in an appearance. I ran to the window, however there was nothing there but another set of pawprints. "How the heck...? I began. The "Boy" continued to twitch his tail and stare out the window at the unseen perpetrator.
This went on for the next few weeks. Each time Beastie Boy would growl and inform us of the cat's presence, yet when we ran to the window it was already gone. Some evenings Beastie Boy wouldn't have anything to say at all but in the morning, a fresh pair of tracks would be left on the ground as evidence. Devon continued to worry. "Mom, we need to catch that cat. It's going to freeze!" he would exclaim. I couldn't agree more. I decided to put the humane trap outside. I placed a dish of tuna inside then covered it with a blanket to keep out the wind. When the cat stepped inside to eat the tuna, it would step on a spring lever that would release the door to shut behind it, causing no harm to the animal. "Aha!" I grinned to myself. "Now I have you!"
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