Lexington, KY - William the Orange, no relation of the king of similar name, cuts through our backyard and across the patio, pausing momentarily to glare at Bailey and Katie and to be glared at by them, standing together at the back screen door. There are no pleasantries; William passes on, turns down the driveway and goes to make his rounds of the neighborhood. He hasn't acknowledged my presence. He knows that he is no longer top cat at our place, and he resents it.
We met William - our name for him, because of his color -
about three years ago. Our cats, Patrick and Belle, had died and my wife couldn't handle bringing in kittens right away. I needed the presence of a cat; they make me smile even in un-smiley weather of the spirit. And so one day while I was in the yard, William came by, rubbed against my legs and graciously received a chin rub and scratch in return. Our place became a regular and almost daily stop for these exchanges. Sometimes, if we weren't outside, William would come to the back door and call for us. Occasionally we would meet him at other places in the neighborhood, and though he was polite at those times, there was not the intimacy we shared in our yard.
We don't know where William lives, though we assume it is somewhere nearby. Nor do we know what his name is when he's there. We do know he is well cared for. He disappears during the cold months and shows up again in the spring, obviously well fed and under exercised. We are always glad to see him, but our relationship isn't the same since Bailey and Katie came to live with us two years ago.
Our cats are from the same litter, but you wouldn't know from looking. Bailey is bigger and black with a couple of patches of white on his belly. Katie is a petite tabby. Bailey is quiet, and apparently has no voice except for a tentative squeak. This has been a problem. A couple of times he's got locked up where he doesn't want to be and has no way to let us know. Once he was between the front doors and might have perished there in the summer heat had we not found him.
If Katie gets locked in, we hear about it. We hear about a lot of things. Katie can be a coquette or a shrew. If we pick up Bailey to move him from a place of comfort he goes without complaint. Do the same with Katie and she curses; I know cat cursing when I hear it.
Still, most of the time they're both good natured. In the evening both like a game -
sometimes a long game -
of chase and fetch the toy mouse, then hide the toy mouse under the couch and watch us move the couch to retrieve it.
There are other routines. Mine are mostly with Bailey. I've wondered if it's because neither of us has much of a voice. When I get up, he gets up. Katie stays in bed. He comes to the bathroom and sits atop the washer while I shave and do my ablutions, then paces the bedroom as I dress. When I'm ready he heads down the steps before me and stops at the downstairs water bowl while I fill it. Then he joins me in the kitchen, checking to see if anything interesting has happened during the night. While I eat breakfast he tries to get in my lap, and failing that lies on my newspaper. After breakfast we go to the computer and he is soon on my lap getting his morning rub.
Before we were married Becky and I both had dogs over the years. We loved them and were loved and had our hearts broken time and time again. Dogs were easy to love, and didn't raise questions about who was in charge. Dogs are more like people ought to be. Cats are more like people as we are: challenging authority, maneuvering to get what they want, not always willing to be responsible members of community.
Cats can tell us much about the patience of God.