As I drove home with this purring fur ball happily warming in my lap, I knew that adding another cat to our 4-cat home was not really an option. We would have to try and locate the owner or find it a good home. My wife, Lorie, agreed. We put up posters at the mobile home park near the bank. We asked around. No luck. We kept it in the garage because we didn't want to upset our other cats with this temporary interloper. We got to know her (yes, it was a her) a little better. We came to the conclusion that she must have spent her earliest weeks with puppies, as she exhibited the loving exuberance and playfulness usually attributed to dogs. She was a tortoiseshell (or "tortie") cat, named for the colorful markings on their coats and according to folklore a sign of good luck. After a couple of days I started calling her Marblecake. They say once you name them, they are yours. Or maybe it's really after they name you, you are theirs. They also say that dogs have masters, cats have staff. I would say that Marblecake met us halfway. She had a gleam in her eyes that I have only seen in the eyes of happy dogs.
Most of our cats found Lorie. Marblecake found me, as did our oldest, Floyd The Cat. He was the alpha cat and immediately took Marble under his wing. In my favorite photo of them, he seems to be showing her the outside world while generously sharing his window perch. I think he taught her how to be a cat, but she kept her dog vibe, too. She did a lot of things that dogs would do if they could.
Whether she was exploring the rafters of what eventually became our new master bedroom, or holding up the kitchen ceiling with the sheer strength of her paws, Marblecake was Supercat!
After only a short time with us, a visit to the vet and an X-ray disclosed that Marblecake had a congenital hip defect. We speculated that perhaps she had been abandoned for that reason, and perhaps left under that shrub by someone who hoped that someone with a weak spot for cats would find her. After the corrective surgery, her hip was fixed, but she lost her inner kitten. She was still happy and loving, but her seemingly unbounded energy was now politely contained and brought forth only on special occasions. Marble had stepped from childhood into middle age.
As happens with the passage of time, one by one, Marblecake's older housemates passed on. It seemed that almost every time one left us, another would appear at our door. Marble eventually became the alpha cat, a position that I think she always believed she owned after Floyd was gone. She enjoyed her position but did not abuse it.
We have been blessed with great cats and a great veterinarian. Todd Friedland has always been there for us, and (let's face it) we've returned the favor by helping put his children through college! He runs the North Windham Animal Hospital, which we highly recommend. The doctors and staff are gifted and caring people.
I guess you know where this is going. Over the past few months, we could see that Marblecake was winding down. She still loved to eat and sleep (always her two favorite pastimes), but she had lost a lot of weight and was not getting around as well. Instead of owning all three floors, she was staying on one and avoiding stairs. Dr. Friedland suspected cancer, but tests were inconclusive. He told us what he always tells us: "Take her home, and treat her like a queen. She'll let you know when it's time." That time came last Thursday. I think Lorie and I both knew it that morning, but we always hope for a miracle. We have learned over the years that keeping our furry friends alive when they are no longer enjoying life is a far worse fate than letting them go. Lorie called me from Dr. Friedland's office that evening, and I left work and joined her there. The joyful doggy gleam had left our dear cat's eyes. Tears were shed. We held her as Dr. Friedland sent Marblecake on her way.
Some believe in a "Rainbow Bridge" for animals to cross into heaven. I hope that's true, and that our Marblecake is reunited with Floyd and all those amazing pals of hers. I guess a cat who looked a little like a rainbow herself, and who thought she was a dog, will blend in well wherever she is. She always did.
