MUSINGS FROM THE MIND OF AMANDA

This is very difficult to write, and I’ve put it off for a couple of weeks…but I needed time to think about it, and time to grieve. It’s a long story, but please, be patient with me.

In 2019, on a cold (for Texas), blustery night, one of the neighborhood kids showed up at my house with a cold, cranky black cat. “You already have cat food, so I brought it to you.” Um, ok. I took the very spicy baby, and looked her over. She looked healthy, but was not happy about the contact. She was small, I figured maybe six months old. Fine. It’s cold and dark, she can sleep in the utility room and at least be warm and safe till I figure something out.

I checked with a few neighbors, and took her to check for a microchip. No luck. She integrated to the main rooms with our other cats: Sammy, Tango and Phoenix, all males. Other than a few spats, it went pretty well, but I didn’t want another cat. I told my husband as soon as she found a home, I was fine with letting her go. And I was…at first.

I came home from work a few weeks later and she was gone. Turns out, she lived a couple houses down from us. They’d found her somewhere and just brought her home and put her in the yard. She got food and water and shelter, but no socializing. I’m pretty sure she was born feral. We were getting ready to move, and I thought that was one last thing to worry about.

Till the next morning, when I got up and she’d come back to our house and was digging in the boxes in the garage. Well. Clearly she wants to live with us. My husband and I argued and snarled and snapped. He maintained that I said I didn’t want her, and we didn’t need another cat. I maintained that all those things were true, but she chose us and I was willing to fight for her. H finally caved.

I went to the owners, explained what was happening, and that we were moving, and asked if we could take her with us. The mom was confused but agreed, and it was done. Trixie Belle the Cat From Hell was mine.

We moved in December. In January, before her spay appointment, she went into heat. I’d never seen a cat in heat before, and it was hilarious. All our boys were fixed as soon as possible, but that didn’t stop her from mounting (ha!) a seduction effort worthy of the sultriest movie. And the boys were stunned. The looks on their furry little faces…confusion, terror, annoyance.

We got her spayed. She settled down, but she was still pretty spicy. You could pet her but only on her terms. If you picked her up and lost a finger, that was on you. And don’t even think about snuggles.

And then she started coming to sit in my lap. She’d push the other cats away and curl up on my chest and sleep for an hour. Then she’d wake up, stretch, bite me and go on about her business. Sometimes she’d lay down beside me at night, or lay on my chest. You could pet her sometimes as long as eleven seconds before you were in mortal peril. Sometimes she’d walk up behind me, nip me on the calf, and wander away, content with a job well done. Heaven help me if I put a foot on the bathroom cabinet when she was up there. She was going to bite it. She loved to watch the toilet flush. She’d come watch me go to the restroom so she could be sure she’d see me flush. She wasn’t cuddly, but most of the time, she was somewhere nearby, watching me, and sometimes letting me have some attention.

I made a point to give her wet food as soon as I got home from work. She’d stand in the garage and yell for me. My husband said she’d start about ten minutes before I was due home. If I forgot, she’d come get me and fuss till I remembered. And weekend didn’t matter. At five or so, she was reminding me.

I started working from home in March. She quickly learned that if she waited outside my door at five, she could still remind me. If I walked out earlier, say, at four o’clock, she’d start then, too. I loved it – it was almost like a conversation. She’d yowl, and I’d say something, and she’d yowl back.

And then one day, I walked out of my office and she wasn’t there. I remember thinking that was weird, but that she must’ve been sleeping in a window sill somewhere and lost track of time. I put the wet food out, saw a couple of the others cats (we were up to six) and went to get dressed to go run some errands. I walked into the living room and saw her. She’d gone to sleep under that cat tree, one of her favorite spots, and never woke up. By out best estimate, she was six to seven years old.

My son and best friend took care of her body for me until the vet opened. We opted for a private cremation and her ashes came home last week. Her box is in one of the window sills where she liked to doze and watch the yard for bugs and lizards and birds and squirrels, and possibly neighborhood children.

Trixie wasn’t a typical pet, but she was mine, and she chose me. I loved her, and I will miss her. I still “see” her around the house, in the shadows or when I catch a glimpse of the other cats out of the corner of my eye. Walking out of my office every day breaks my heart, and I haven’t been putting out much wet food. Without Trixie, it doesn’t seem to be disappearing like it used to.

My husband says no more pets ( we have five cats and four dogs) but I know the Cat Distribution System has another cat out there that needs my help. Maybe, just maybe, it will be a spicy little black cat who loves me, even if she doesn’t show it.