And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
This week, the humane society emailed me and asked how we were doing with our new cat, Poe, now that we had her for three months. I laughed. We are definitely “doing” with Poe. I just don’t know “how”.
Three months ago, our cat Cleocatra (Cleo) died suddenly shortly after her second birthday. We were aware that she had feline leukemia, but we never thought it would affect her so quickly, since she was an active, healthy, crazy, loving cat. She was a perfect combination of goofy and majestic. A coat that deserved to be on the shoulders of a queen. Behavior that was just weird. She was half of what I called The Orange Terror Twins From Different Mothers. She and Oliver were three months apart in age. And they were inseparable.
Cleo fell deeply ill overnight and died within days. We were all stunned.
I wasn’t anywhere near ready to adopt a new cat, but I was worried about Oliver. He didn’t know where Cleo went – she just disappeared. He looked for her in all of their places. He seemed sad, and I figured he was grieving too, even if he didn’t know for certain that she died.
So I started to keep an eye out. At the humane society website one night, I saw Poe.
Poe is white and black, not black and white. A black and white cat is called a tuxedo cat. Poe, white with black, is called a cowcat, but she is definitely not like a cow.
It was her name that drew me in. The humane society gave her the name of Poe. While Michael was still in the hospital, a month after his accident, our cat Edgar died. Edgar’s full name was Edgar Allen Paw, after Edgar Allen Poe, who was one of Michael’s favorite writers. And now…here was Poe. I felt like all signs pointed to her.
Livvy and I met her, and while she wasn’t very outgoing or friendly, we brought her home. We attributed her standoffishness to her history. She was found with her mother and her siblings, all feral. She was brought from Michigan to Wisconsin, via car, which had to be traumatic for a cat who hadn’t even been inside a house. She stayed in a cat rescue, and then the litter was brought to the humane society. One by one, they were all adopted…except Poe. She was suddenly alone.
Like Oliver.
Once home, she spent most of her time hidden, though she would come out to be by Oliver. She very quickly attached herself to him, and while she was pestier than Cleo, he accepted her. Eventually, she stayed out, no longer hidden. She had places she preferred to be. She would rub against my legs at dinner time and sometimes answer me when I talked to her.
But two months went by, and we still hadn’t been able to pet her. If we approached her, she ran.
One night, about a month ago, I was in bed, almost asleep. Oliver was beside me on Michael’s pillow. Oliver took up a place there after Michael died. I was petting him slowly, he was purring, and suddenly, Poe was there too. She sat right next to Oliver, so while I was petting him, I also rotated my hand toward her. I stroked her chest and her sides. But when I reached for her back, she ran.
My gosh, she’s soft.
I considered it a triumph. For a couple days, I roamed the house, singing, “I pat the Poe!” to the melody of “I shot the sheriff!” by Michel Jackson.
And I waited for her to join me again.
She didn’t.
It got to the point I thought I might have dreamed the whole thing.
Then there was last night.
I was again almost asleep, petting Oliver, who was in his place on Michael’s pillow. And then there was Poe.
I blinked hard to make sure I was awake.
She sat beside him, and we went through the routine again. Oliver, Poe, Oliver, Poe, chest, side, chest, side.
Then Oliver left, walking behind my head to my bedside table.
Poe stayed. She sat on the pillow and looked at me.
I kept petting her. Chest, side, chest, other side, over and over.
But when I reached for her back, she left. Not running, though. She walked behind my head too, stopping to sniff my hair, and then she followed Oliver.
Ever want to sit up in bed and whoop, but you can’t, because then you’ll startle the creature you’re trying so hard not to startle?
I’m thinking this is a Poe corner (not to be confused with The House At Pooh Corner). The wall might be long before we approach the next corner. But that’s okay. It’s always ahead.
Poe is most definitely not Cleo. But she’s also not Jake, Einstein, Cornelius, Muse, Edgar Allen Paw, or Oliver. She moves at Poe speed. She turns Poe corners.
And she’s happy. She knows she’s safe. She isn’t alone. She’s becoming fully Poe.
Which I think is what we want for everyone.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
