As I was pondering a tale I have often recounted to other people that they have thought cute, I decided I had better get it posted so, in case anyone else might try to claim it as their own, I will always know it has been told the "right" way. I also want people to know about our extraordinary cat, Tiger, who took care of me when my boyfriend could not. Tiger, this is for you:
A relatively short time ago (measured in years, as opposed to other units of time) Ross had to have one of his knees replaced and was not anticipating his hospital stay with any degree of delight. He was very concerned about bills and business calls, of course, but also he worried incessantly about the household chores he usually takes care of because of my increasing troubles at the time with arthritis and a variety of other health issues that would make taking care of our mutual home very difficult. He also worried about our population of geriatric cats and how they might fare under "mommy's" auspices during this time.
The day or so before Ross headed for the hospital, our kitty Tiger caught his frst mouse (the first we are aware of anyway) and proudly left it in the middle of the doorway from the living room into the kitchen. I was the lucky person to find it, although as the tale unfolded I thought that might have been Tiger's plan, and after telling Tiger what a wonderful mouse it was and thanking him profusely, I gently retired it to the yard and thought nothing of it again, until the next mouse appeared. After mouse number one we both thought Tiger would retire from the pastime. He had been exceptionally pleased with the praise and had jumped up on the back of Ross's chair purring ecstatically and rubbing Ross to show us we had received the mouse with proper cat-human ettiquette and interaction, but he really had never been much of a mouser.
Until the day of, or just after, Ross's surgery, when I was once again presented with a mouse in almost the same spot. Again, I praised Tiger and told him his mouse had the wonderful and unique attributes only a cat like he could possibly have selected, etc., etc. Tiger was very happy and I just figured he had found some spot where the mice were slow, fat and plentiful but again, did not attach any special significance to the actions, although they were really highly unusual for any of our cats.
As the days passed and Ross entered rehab, I was presented again and again with mice caught by Tiger, each given with a joy and generosity of spirit only a very special pussycat can bring to such a gift. By the time Ross was able to return home I had garnered no less than half a dozen mice from Tiger. We were both wondering if he would continue to present me with mice but, after Ross was back home, the gifts stopped. The day of the return of "daddy-cat" was the day Tiger stopped catching mice. It was only in retrospect that Tiger's behavior made any sense, and I feel certain I have interpreted the situation correctly.
The days before Ross's surgery, Tiger let Ross know, in no uncertain terms, that he, Tiger, would take care of me while Ross was unable to do so. I was well supplied with mice during Ross's absence but, when Ross returned home there was no more need for the mice, and Tiger realized this and placed the care of "mommy-cat" back into the capable hands of Ross. Tiger jumped up in his favorite spot on the back of Ross's chair and seemed to retire from taking care of me with a satisfied sigh that said, "I did what I set out to do for you but now it's back on your shoulders, guy."
I wish I had taken pictures of every single mouse. Never have I ever been singled out like that by a pussycat for the reasons I feel certain Tiger carried in his being during that time. (I have never had the heart to tell Ross that I enjoyed those mice a lot more than the White House-shaped Christmas ornament he gave me one year.)
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