by Marta Felber
Mewsings
It is okay to wonder why.
Sometimes we know the answers.
Sometimes we don’t know the answers.
Sometimes we can learn the answers later.
It is okay to wonder why and never know the answers.
PAYING ATTENTION TO VISITORS
The doorbell rings, early in the morning. I don’t have all my do-every-morning jobs finished. M didn’t tell me we were having guests. I stand at attention. The big man has a big smile, and I like him instantly. M greets him differently from how she welcomes her friends. “Thank you for coming,” she says. He stoops all the way down to my level and pets me. Perhaps he will become a friend.
What happens next is very strange. M begins to take Visitor from room to room, all over the house. M opens every cupboard and closet door, and he looks in. They even go up the pull-down stairs to the attic, where I have never been allowed to go. He makes notes on a board he carries, before he leaves each room. What is going on? I like him, but I’m not sure I like what he is doing. M and this man have a long conversation in the living room. Boring, but I stand at attention. I know he will pet me before he leaves.
The next day another Visitor rings the bell. M invites her in, with “Thank you for coming.” “Oh, you have a cat,” she says. As if M didn’t know, I am thinking. The routine is repeated, almost the same as with Visitor One, and they go through our entire house. The woman is in a hurry, moves fast, and spends less time making notes and talking with M before she leaves. She shakes hands with M at the door, but completely ignores me. I’m just as glad, since I don’t feel like reaching out to Visitor Two. What is going on? Whatever it is, I now decide, I don’t like it.
Days go by. Late one afternoon a man rings the bell. I don’t go to the door. I hide and watch, from a safe distance. He and M go through the same routine. Visitor Three tries to make M laugh, but she does not laugh when he does. I get the feeling she does not like him that much. I notice he does not open the cupboard doors. M is not as friendly at the door when she tells him goodbye. He does not know I am a member of the household. I hope that Visitor Three is the last of these visitors. I prefer friends. I block out the Visitors and get on with my day.
The same day I hear the bell, and there stand a man and a woman. It is the man to whom I am drawn. He stoops to my level, pets me and talks my language. I definitely want him to become a Friend. M sits down with these visitors, and I hop on the man’s lap. The conversation with M is a long one. It sounds as if they are agreeing on something. They nod their heads back and forth. M smiles and looks happy. I’m not listening because I am concentrating on New Friend petting me. I know he has had cats in his life.
I hear M say at the door, “I’ll be in touch. I’m so glad you will be helping me pack.”
Mewsings
There is a big difference between
first-time visitors and familiar friends.
First impressions are very important.
Something inside tells us when
a new person will become a true friend.
QUESTIONING AND GETTING NO ANSWERS
Why is M spending so much time on the phone? When I tune in, I hear no stories and laughter like she usually shares with her friends. I try to snuggle in her lap, and end up with a notebook on my back, while she writes. What is she writing that takes her attention away from me? The Woman Visitor returns. Where is the man who came with her, the man I call New Friend?
Why is Packer, as M calls her, bringing boxes from the garage into the kitchen? I love boxes. I jump in one and settle down. “Ling, you’ll have to move so I can pack dishes in the box.” Why do dishes go in a box? Dishes belong on the shelves, in the cupboards. Not that I really care, since I only need one dish. Why are you putting dishes on my designated counter space, reserved for me? Packer stops packing to pet me. I like her, but not as much as New Friend. She says she is packing everything we don’t need. Why wasn’t all this packed in boxes before, since we did not need all this stuff? Every time I get an answer, I have more questions. They keep piling up in my mind. I play with the paper she crunches and try getting into the boxes. No luck, except when she turns her back. I am bored and go in the bedroom for a nap. But I can’t sleep, with so many questions rolling around in my mind.
Why does Packer come back, day after day, and move from room to room, putting everything she finds in boxes? She puts the boxes on a thing with wheels. I trail behind her as she pushes it to the garage. She adds the boxes to the growing piles and they almost reach the ceiling. Box by box, our home is looking less like home. I want home to be home, not this empty place.
Today New Friend comes with Packer. He does not pack. We play. It’s about time someone pays attention to me! We go out onto the porch. He fixes my broken fish-on-a-pole toy, and we have a grand time. While we are playing I ask him all my questions. He listens, but he does not appear to understand, or answer. Finally I am exhausted, and he holds me. M never has time to do this anymore. I fall asleep. I’ve been losing sleep. When I wake up, it is time for Packer and my personal friend to go home. Will he come back tomorrow?
New Friend comes back and moves big boxes down from the attic above the garage. I never knew there was an attic up there. Whose stuff is that? It does not smell like M or me. I race around. Packer unpacks the boxes and then repacks in different boxes. Isn’t that wasted time and effort? In the middle of all this, next day, M leaves. She tells me over and over that she will be back. I believe her, because she came back the other times she left. But why is she leaving when I need her most?
New Friend and Packer come every day, while M is gone. I am thankful. But where is M, and when is she coming back? And what is going on in our world?
Mewsings
Changes in our world can be disturbing.
Nothing is more unsettling than not knowing why.
We may ask and get no real answers.
We need to keep asking
and hold on to persons who care and understand.
PREPARING TO MOVE
M comes home, just as she promised she would. She is smiling. I remember now that she was not smiling before she went away. “We have a new home, Sterling, and we will be moving soon.” I always listen when M uses my full name. At last I have some information. But I also have more questions.
I see something new at my place on the counter. M calls it a harness and leash. I smell it, play with it, and leave it alone. It does not belong to me. One day M puts the harness around my head and neck. I struggle like mad, trying my best to shake it off. M manages to hold onto me and lift me onto the floor. I run around a box that has been packed, and M is almost knocked down as the leash tightens. That should stop her and make her remove this thing. Wrong. She picks me up, goes to an open space, and “takes me for a walk,” as she calls it. I end up taking her for a walk, and it is fun. We do this almost every day.
“Sterling, today we are going for a ride in the car. I’m going to the bank, and you are going with me.” Why? I don’t need to go to the bank, whatever that is. Why is M carrying my litter box out to the garage and placing it on the floor in the front seat of the car? She gets me into my harness and leash and ties the leash to the car door on the inside. I yell, but she ignores me, and I get quiet. When the car starts, I yell again. I remember the day M brought me home from the Shelter, in this very car. My trips to the vet also have been in this car. But, I was always safe in my carrier. This is entirely different, and it is strange. I tell M. All she says is, “It will get better.”
Every day we take a ride somewhere. The trips get longer. Sometimes M takes me into a house to visit with a friend. I wish she would take off my leash, but she never does. When we get back home each day I see that there are more boxes in the garage and the house looks bigger, and emptier. Soon there won’t be anything left. It is not home anymore. Maybe I do want to go to a new home to get away from this unfamiliar place. Will we take everything out of the boxes when we get to o
ur new home?
I spend most of my spare time on the porch. This is my room. It has always been my room. Only the couch and chair remain, but it doesn’t matter. The birds and squirrels are outside, doing their thing. Do they know I am leaving? I suppose I should say goodbye to them. I hope there are birds and squirrels where we are going, just like these.
Mewsings
Home is known, and we feel secure.
Packing everything makes it not like home.
Leaving home means facing the unknown.
Preparing for the journey may help.
We say goodbyes,
but we, alone, can deal with no-home time.
STARTING THE JOURNEY
I just got to sleep. How can it be time to get up? The sun is not awake. M spent all day yesterday packing stuff in the car, first in the trunk, and then inside. The only free space is in the front seat. Today M puts on my now-familiar harness and leash, fastens it to the door, and then goes back into the house. When she comes out, she is crying. I feel sad too.
“Eat! Eat!” I say to M. She shows me my food dish and a bowl with a little bit of water in it. They are wedged into a box on the seat. I had not noticed. As we pull out of the garage, into the darkness, I remember Packer and New Friend. I will miss them. I am glad that I said goodbye yesterday and they each hugged me, more than once. M explains that they will come to our home after we leave and before the movers arrive. They will make sure that everything goes in the movers’ truck, and the movers will meet us at our new home.
It’s too dark to see anything outside, so I curl up on the seat beside M. The leash won’t let me get on her lap. She reaches out and pets me, and we feel sad and glad together. I think about the good times we had in the home we are leaving. But I am excited about a new home, new squirrels and birds. There has to be a porch for me.
When the sun gets up, I do too. I take my special place at the window on the right. I had tried looking out the front window of the car, but I slipped off and fell into my litter box! We are going faster than we did at home. Things whiz by and it’s hard for me to see what they are. My eyes begin to hurt. What is there to do? I start complaining to M. Surely I did not hear her say, “It’s a long, long journey. We have just begun.”
I am beginning to think I can’t stand it any longer when M pulls off into a lovely area with lots of trees. She gets out of the car, goes into a building, and returns. What about me? When do I go? I complain some more, louder this time. And I don’t shut up. That’s when M does the pill routine that I had almost forgotten. Yes, I would like a treat. “It’s a pill the vet said I should give you to help you get through the trip.” I take the pill and get my treat. More scenery goes by. I decide I have seen enough, and I curl up beside M for a long nap.
Before I know it, I am awake and see the sun thinking about going down. M is pulling into a place with lots of connected rooms, each with a door. She parks, and walks up to a lighted big room. I get the feeling she does not want me to be seen. She comes back, takes a few things into our room, like my litter box, one suitcase, and her food box. Last, I go in. This can’t be our new home! Soon I go to sleep next to M, on our borrowed bed in our borrowed room.
Mewsings
Leaving home is sad.
We remember the good times we had there.
We think of friends we are leaving behind.
Sometimes the journey seems long and boring.
Sleeping helps.
It means everything to have a loved one by our side.
FINISHING THE JOURNEY
We are on the road again, just as the sun wakes. How much longer? I know the routine, from yesterday, and I have a plan ready in my mind. The first time M pulls off the fast road, parks, and goes into the house, I put my plan into action. I get free! When she returns and opens the door, I will jump out and do my thing. Here she comes, smiling as she always does. I’m ready to jump out. Oh no! She sees me at her door, races around the car, and jumps in my side. “Sterling! How in the world did you get out of your harness?” I will never tell.
I wait impatiently for the next stop and for M to get out of the car and start toward the building. I get out of my harness. I look up and see M, with a bunch of people standing around the car. M is laughing and explaining to the onlookers. “Ling and I are traveling 1,000 miles in this car to our new home. He has just figured out how to get his harness around the gearshift and pull it off, while I am in the restroom. He is one smart cat.”
M makes the leash shorter whenever she leaves the car, and I can’t reach the gearshift.
Life is dull, and the scenery blurs. I sleep as much as I can. We arrive! “No, Ling, this is not our new home. This is my Son Number Three’s home. You will stay here with Shadow, his kitten, while he and I go meet the movers with the stuff at our home.”
Shadow is the most unfriendly kitten there can possibly be. The kittens in the Shelter left me alone. Shadow advances on me as if she were bigger than I. She hisses and growls. I wonder if she has claws. I find her litter box, ignoring mine that has been brought in from the car. I’ll show her, and use her box. Then she uses mine. I run up the stairs, and find a hiding place. I stay there until M and Son Number Three return.
“Did you and Shadow have a nice time while we were gone?” asks M. You bet, think I. Shadow sees me and starts her growling again, a low growl, like one coming from a big dog. M scolds, “Sterling, stop growling at the little kitten. You will frighten her. See, she is tiny and sweet.” Shadow growls again, and her hair stands up on end. Son Number Three and M start to laugh, hysterically. “Ling, I’m so sorry. I thought it was you who was growling.”
Mewsings
We can add spice
to boring times between old and new.
We choose to ignore unfriendly others
and join in laughter
that lifts our spirits.
LOOKING FOR MY HOME
My litter box, where M takes me first, is in a bathroom. My litter box was always in the room next to the kitchen, in my real home. The litter box bathroom is next to our bedroom; I recognize our bed. This bedroom is smaller, and full of boxes. The boxes close in on me. M picks me up and carries me to a room where my food bowl is on the floor. She tells me it is the kitchen, but it does not look like my kitchen. I am not hungry. I must find something I have seen before. In the next room there is our couch and the piano. Huge boxes are stacked in the middle of the room, and smaller boxes all around.
I need space! I run to windows that go to the floor and I see the outdoors. But we are up high, and there are no windows on the outside of this porch.
I race around. M tries to catch me. I see steps. Maybe my home is up there. I race up and find another bathroom. There are two more rooms filled with boxes to the ceiling. In one room there are fake flowers, ones I had hoped we would leave behind. I am not used to steps. I come down slower than I went up. I race down the hall, stopping when I see more steps, this time going down. My home, my real home, must be down there. The steps turn at the bottom, into a big room. I see M’s big exercise machine, the one that was in the room where my litter box was. Everything is all jumbled up. I am jumbled up, too. And I want to go home, back to my real home. Let’s take the boxes back there and unpack.
M grabs me, carries me to the couch, the couch I do remember, and we sit down. M is calm and her voice is soothing. I try to listen. “Ling, this must be so hard for you. It’s hard for me too. We will work together. First thing, we will get your toys from the car. Just imagine your balls bouncing off the boxes. I can see you climbing all the way to the top of every pile and jumping to other boxes. I will go with you on the deck, where you can watch for the birds. You can help me unpack these boxes and put things where we want them. Son Number Three will come and help us when he has time. He will need your help.” As she talks, she is stroking me, in the same old way. She reaches down and nuzzles her head next to mine.
Yes, everything, and I do mean everything, in my new home is
different, but M is exactly the same.
Mewsings
In a new home, nothing seems the same.
Familiar things are put in the wrong places.
We may want to run,
back to where we felt secure.
We stay where we are
and create security among change.
EXPERIENCING JEALOUSY
Shadow is Son Number Three’s cat. She is black as black can be, or so I thought. Once, when I happened to be on the floor, and she jumped over me, I saw some white hairs scattered under her throat. Son Number Three calls the white hairs “the Kiss of the Butterfly.” I would imagine, in the dusk or nighttime, she is invisible, but only if she closes her flashlight-green eyes.
Shadow lives in a home with beams, high in the air. I’ve seen her walk along them without an ounce of fear. Her living room is larger than ours, and you can get to the kitchen without going through a door. There is a huge fireplace, with a shelf in front, where Shadow can toast herself when the fire is low. If she gets too warm, she can curl up on the sofa and watch the fire. Her sofa is bigger than ours. I always manage to snitch some of her non-diet food when I visit. Shadow is thin and doesn’t need to watch her weight. She can squeeze into hiding places where I can’t go. She plays with little soft balls, like the ones I hit and hide. But her other toys are more interesting than mine. She has a man in her life, as her human. She knows when he will be away and she has the house to herself. Shadow has everything I don’t have!
