My son and I recently moved to a cool new apartment on the bayou here in West Houston. We haven't had much time yet to experience the outdoors, yet are loving being next to a small tributary on Buffalo Bayou.
I am still discovering our outdoor space. We have ducks, a lone cowbird, turtles, and too many stray cats. One cat keeps all the others indoors. He skulks about, the lone, solitary, white male. The neighbors warn me about this guy. "Oh, he's torn up my cat. Do not let your cat outside, he'll tear her apart. I never should have let my cat outdoors in the first place."
So, Ms. Clare de Lune (interpretation "bright, clear moon"), my gorgeous tabby with major attitude, longingly stares out the window at the birds from inside her perch in my room. Oh, how she would love to capture a bird. She's only 1.5 years old, yet has never caught a bird that I know of. At our old apartment, she roamed freely whenever and wherever she wanted. She stalked, ran, flushed, and taunted the birds to her heart's delight. Mostly she caught small bugs as she jumped up in the air, using her paws as catcher's mitts.
To me, Ms. Clare is my miracle kitty. I picked her up from my jobsite, where I discovered her on the very day that I got fired from my job. I had gone out at lunch time to pick up a cage and kitten chow from the Dollar General in the small town where I worked. After work, as I stumbled towards my car and her portable cage, I was crying so hard that I could barely see.
I walked into the shed where my co-workers were keeping her. The poor thing was so scared. I think she was the runt of the litter of the mama cat that they had just had fixed. She was so small. I couldn't figure out how old she was, possibly 4 - 6 weeks old, yet the other kittens were 8 weeks old and already adopted out. Maybe mama kitty had taken her in after all her other kittens had left. The place I worked was right across from a rice mill, so possibly her mother had come in from a train that stopped at the rice mill.
As I opened Ms. Clare's cage and attempted to walk to her, I fell hard (I'm great at falling down), and she lunged away from me, back into a hole in the wall. Mama kitty was scared, too. Eventually a co-worker saw me lying on the floor, crying my eyes out, and asking for her help in getting the cat. This lady could tell I was hurting, both physically and mentally, and she kindly helped me up, and picked Clare up.
Clare and I got into the car, started down Old Highway 90, and made the 30 minute trip home. The poor little kitty was so frightened from me crying all the way home. Then, she came into our old apartment and starting turning our lives around. We had not had a baby around for over 17 years. That's another story for another day...
