The Visitor



Last night, I was awakened by the most blood curdling sound. It was the low moan of a cat in trouble. It was 5:30 in the morning and pouring rain outside. I went to the sliding glass door and looked out onto my patio to see the stray cat who sometimes visits me when he needs to come in from the cold. His back was up and he was in a showdown with another stray tom cat. I opened my sliding glass door and shooed the stranger away. After he was sure that his nemesis had indeed fled the scene, Tabby (I have no idea if he actually has a name, but as he is a tabby cat, that’s what I call him) came in. He was soaking wet and shivering with cold, or rage, or perhaps a combination of the two. He let me towel him off and then he scarfed down some Meow Mix that I keep for just such an occasion. After his appetite was sated, Tabby joined me on the sofa and we both fell asleep, him, exhausted from battle, me just exhausted. After about an hour, the now dry Tabby, woke me up by mewing at the door and I let him back outside. He never stays long, but it seems that I am his port in a storm (literally and figuratively). I went back to bed and dreamed of sad wet cats. To me one of the most heart wrenching images is the sad wet cat. Nothing awakens my maternal instinct as quickly. In spirit of misery loves company, I thought I’d share some images of what happens when cats get wet. (Cue the Sarah McLachlan song)





When such a sad thing happens to the one animal on the planet that personifies the word dignity, one can only ask…



14 thoughts on “The Visitor

  1. Glad Tabby has a refuge! The only time I’ve ever seen my cat all wet was the time she fell in the tub. I had the misfortune to be in the tub at the time. It did not end well for either of us.

  2. As I swiftly skimmed over the sadness, from the comments I am glad to know it ended well, but I am such a huge animal sook that I worry about ALL the creatures that might be having a bad time anywhere, and loathe all the people who enable this. Bravo to you for being part of the Kind Tribe who can leave a warm bed at dawn to help a cat.

  3. We had a similar cat who lived with us. Her name was simply “kitty”. She died and I have not stopped blaming myself for her death. I was a child at the time, but when she fell sick I left her to my dad. I made a mistake.

    He took her somewhere the streets and left her to die, because he thought her sickness may be dangerous to us. I just still miss her so much, and that’s why I have a huge soft spot for kittens.

    And these wet kittens in this post seem so vulnerable, I just wanna hold them…

    1. You cannot shoulder the blame here. You said, yourself that you were a child. You had no other choice but to trust the adult in your life. You didn’t know what he would do… how could you know? It wasn’t your fault.

  4. I remember when we found Mr Eccles as a kitten, frightened and hungry near a dumpster outside. Your cat’s lucky to have such a good friend. Stay warm, both of you.

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