by Sheldon Oberman

Our present cat is a black and white which my friend Billy tells me is the most playful and accommodating of colours for a cat. Oreo is good natured to the point of goofiness. She simply loves being held and handled and even gently tossed from one person to another. She'll fall to the floor and "assume the position" for a spin and then a slide across the linoleum. It's the sort of play that might delight a two year old child. It certainly delights me.
My previous cat, my significantly other cat, was a tortoise shell grey, an aloof combination of colours, Billy might say.
She was proper and reserved with the judgemental gaze of an owl. I found her more difficult to love.
She was not my cat, actually. Chloe was my wife's cat which I suppose would make her my cat-in-law. Unfortunately, our relationship had a bad start. I was dating Lisa when I first met Chloe and didn't take much notice of her. Then Lisa asked me to take Chloe while she was out of town. I brought her home, opened her cage and she promptly hid behind the couch. That was fine with me. I set up the food and litter and forgot about her.
About 3 am I had a strange dream. The sky was sinking and a heavy grey cloud descended over me. I began suffocating. I woke up to feel something pressing upon my face. I grappled with it and flung it as far as I could. I heard a thump followed by the unmistakable shriek of a cat. Evidently, Chloe had settled to sleep on my face and I had thrown her against the far wall.

Lisa claimed that Chloe had attempted to be friendly. I claimed that Chloe had attempted murder. Chloe probably thought the same of me. We did not reconcile. Not till another mischance put me forever in her debt.
Lisa moved to Montreal and we began one of those long distance relationships that is so enriching to airline and telephone companies. After a year, we made a decision; Lisa would move back and we would move in together. So would Chloe.
It was not easy for Lisa to leave Montreal where she'd had what she repeatedly called "the best year of her life", where they cook, dress, eat, dance and love all for art's sake. It was not easy to pack her life into my rusty station wagon (including cat) and drive west far beyond what Montrealers would call civilization.
After 15 hours we pulled into some forsaken motel hell and crashed for the night. Morning felt like a hangover and the view outside the motel room door was a desolation of parking lot, highway and scrub bush.
"Where's Chloe?" Lisa asked, coming out of the shower.
The motel room suddenly looked more desolate that the view outside. "I only opened the door for thirty seconds," I stammered.
"That's all it takes," she said.
Each word pierced like a nail. Eternal vigilance is the price of loving a woman with a cat.
We tore through the room then rushed outside, looking everywhere. What would Lisa think this meant? Her cat rejecting me? A foreshadowing of worse failings? Would I drop our future baby? Lose her heart pills in a geriatric crisis?

I had to find that cat.
"She's gone!" Lisa cried to the wind. "Oh, God!"
I was too ashamed to speak. If only I had a reputation for reliability, for locking doors, remembering names, finding my car in a parking lot.
I stared into the gloomy mess of bush and vines. For the first time I felt empathy for that cat. She was stressed out. She wanted a shady spot, some soft leaves. A bit of sleep So did I. But we were already late. We had movers coming. We had family and friends waiting. We had jobs, bosses. I crashed into the woods, ignoring the branches and nettles. Scratches were good. Blood could draw sympathy.
The ravine was dank, primeval. I became a hunter, a shaman at one with the wilderness. For about 100 meters. Then I stumbled through the tangles into a housing development. It had street names like Sunshine Bay and Pansy Drive and children on skateboards staring at my unshaved face and muddied clothes.
"Hi, kids," I muttered. They were suspicious. Their minds were fast forwarding through videos of alien choke?n?chop invasions, wondering what particular horror was my specialty. "I'm looking for a cat." They backed away. "I'll give you fifty bucks to find her."
Sudden acceptance. Deep concern. "Wow! Was she black?"
I was with friends at last. "She's a smoky tortoise shell grey. She has a hot pink collar with toy sunglasses attached."

"I saw her!" A boy cried out. "I should have grabbed her!" He was furious with himself. Never again would he let a cat stroll by. He'd pack his garage with cats for years to come.
I found Lisa and told her where Chloe had been spotted.
"That tramp!" she said. "What's she doing there?" Where there is anger, there is hope. We put up reward posters, knocked on doors, called the local vet and police. As the day wore on, we set up a plan if she was found later, hired someone to drive her to the airport, arranged plane fare and a flight cage.
Finally we stopped to eat. The sundae franchise managed a special vegetarian snack, a white hamburger bun pumped high with liquid cheese. We ate at a plastic table overlooking the neighbourhood. Kids were hunting everywhere, tearing through shrubs, trampling flowerbeds. It was comforting.
Lisa finally spoke, "She'll be okay if she finds someone to care for her."
"I should have cared for her," I said.
Lisa lowered her eyes, "I've been bargaining in my head. 'Give me back Chloe and I'll be a better person. I'll do volunteer work. I'll stop blaming you."
My secret thought welled out. "I've been making it a test. Lose the cat, lose you. Find the cat, keep you."
Lisa cupped her hand as if speaking through a microphone. "This is not a test." We smiled. Dusk was setting in. The autumn hills were grey ? smokey tortoise shell grey. Chloe was nowhere but I felt her everywhere. I would miss that cat, she was part of who we'd been.

It didn't take long to pack. We were just leaving the room when Chloe appeared. She simply walked out from under the bed, blinking in the light. Apparently, she had been asleep inside the box spring all that time. There was an opening we hadn't seen. Lisa shrieked. I swore. The cat fled but we grabbed her, perhaps more tightly than necessary. Lisa stuffed the last tranquillizer into her, though I needed it more than Chloe and we ran to the car.
Pulling out, we saw a pack of kids coming up the hill. They had a cat with them. Maybe two or three. We didn't stop to check. We already had everything we needed.


The End

The author, Sheldon Oberman, holds copywright. www.mbnet.mb.ca/~soberman please get permission before reprinting.