Shadow Cat (4) “No”, she answered. “But Shadow is a very intelligent cat. If you work with him, he will quickly learn. Try him.” “Alright, alright. Don’t get your fur up.” I said. I pressed harder on the accelerator to pick up more speed. “Maybe it’s something that I’ll do. Let me think about it.” I could tell that I had touched a nerve. Terri loved cats; especially our cat Shadow. “Just remember”, Terri admonished, “that Shadow is a cat. Don’t expect him to use his mouth to retrieve logs.” Terri was right, of course. Shadow is a very intelligent cat. He has all the amazing instincts that are inborn to all felines. And, Shadow has shown us that he is very adaptable to new situations. “Anyway”, I thought, “playing a game of retrieving should be fun.” That night, at home in our bedroom, Terri and I talked some more about training Shadow. We usually talked for a while before turning the light off. Shadow was with us in the bedroom, on our bed where he too would spend the night. It was Shadow’s favorite post where he settled for sleep; on top of our bed covers in the foot corner. “I’ll do it!” I said closing the discussion. Turning my back on Terri I reached for the switch on the bed table lamp and turned the light off. “You didn’t say goodnight to Shadow”, Terri reminded me. “Goodnight Shadow”, I complied and closed my eyes. TRAINING: I used cellophane, which I had crushed into the shape of a ball. I liked cellophane because it crackled noisily and because it rolled erratically. Both of these characteristics were attention getting. Shadow watched me throw. Wide eyed, he followed the erratic movements of the cellophane with intense interest but made no movements toward the crinkled ball. The first few sessions of play were not as productive as we had hoped. Each time that I winged the cellophane ball, Shadow would look at me with a curious expression; and did nothing. After many more tries Shadow went over to where the crushed ball lay and, with alternating paws, batted the noisy ball around the room. Undaunted, I kept working with him; to make a retriever out of him. “Maybe he doesn’t relate to the cellophane.” Terri offered excusing Shadow’s lack of accomplishment. “What do you have in mind?” “Well”, she said “how about a soft toy mouse?” “Can’t you think of anything but a mouse form?” “Don’t be so squeamish”, she laughed. “Well O.K.”, I said. “I guess we can give that a try. At this point I suppose I’ll have to try anything in the interest of progress. I’m tired of getting up and down to retrieve my own throws.” Several days later Terri returned from shopping with her arms loaded with her home purchases. From inside one of the bags she withdrew a small soft toy. “Look at what I have for you and Shadow”, she announced. It was a mouse. At first I was startled because the toy looked so near real. It was dark gray except for its’ belly which was colored white. Tied around the neck the toy mouse had a little bell that sounded at every movement. I was sure that Shadow would relate to the mouse. I was sure because I had related to it; I didn’t even want to touch it. RETRIEVING: That evening, after dinner, I showed the toy mouse to Shadow. It seemed to arouse deep feline instincts. He was especially alerted filled with ecstatic curiosity. On my first throw Shadow flew across the room to enjoy the hunt. He pounced on the phony rodent. Shadow threw the mouse over his shoulder and rapturously pounced on it again and again. Shadow’s energy seemed boundless. The toy mouse offered no resistance. After a while the game had run its course. Shadow and the toy lay quietly on the floor. Shadow gave me a questioning glance; as if to say, “I want more action. Get this mouse up for more play.” Then, Shadow did something that was unexpected and, at the same time, expected. He picked the mouse up, firmly with his teeth, and brought it to me. Was this an act of retrieval? The only way to make sure was to throw the toy again. I flung the toy mouse clear across the room. Shadow hastily chased it. He picked up the toy as he had done before and returned it to me. “Terri, Terri”, I yelled. “Come quick; Shadow retrieved!” “Let me see”, she said entering the room. “Do it some more.” I must have thrown that darn mouse fifty times. Each time Shadow returned the stuffed toy to me. In fact, Shadow and I got so good at toss and retrieve that he delivered the mouse directly onto my lap. “What do you think of that Terri?” “Fantastic”, she replied. “Your ready to train for the movies.” WHAT AGAIN?: Thereafter, Shadow daily brought the toy to us. Life with him took on a new leaning. This was his way of requesting that the object be thrown. It was entertaining at first. But, the routine reached a point when it became, at times, a nuisance. Continuance turned the toy into a mutation looking more and more like a lifeless ugly dead mouse. It startled me at times when I did not expect to see it. I would jump in fright when I would unsuspectingly see the mouse on a chair just as I was about to sit. I tried to wean Shadow into retrieving other things. But, Shadow would only retrieve the stuffed mouse. Other objects did not evoke the same spontaneous pleasure that Shadow displayed when we used his favored stuffed toy. One day, while Terri was out and Shadow was in the woods, I threw the mouse into the garbage. I felt cleansed by this act of riddance. Rodents were a species of wildlife that made me uncomfortable. I did not care whether the mouse was real or a stuff toy. The toy I had disposed of was so real looking that its’ trashing was especially easy for me to do. I was repulsed by its pointed nose, by its whiskers and by its shoe string tail. In the days that followed, Terri asked, “Hey, have you seen the stuffed mouse?” “Look in Shadow’s haunts, he must have it somewhere”, I lied. “Shadow just lays around kind of bored. He needs some exercise to liven him. See if you can find his toy.” Terri implored. I knew that the toy was permanently gone. I searched diligently to introduce a new object for the game of retrieving. I tried to get Shadow interested in a small ball. It did not work. I tried to reintroduce the crushed cellophane, which I threw many times across the room. I followed this with a string that had a crushed paper tied to one end, which I dragged along the floor. Nothing would arouse Shadow’s energy. Terri observed these fruitless efforts. “If we don’t find that stuffed mouse, we’ll just go buy another one. That seems to be what Shadow wants.” That night, as we went to bed, I dreaded the thought of a new mouse toy entering the house. Shadow had accompanied us to the bedroom as usual. He went directly to his position on top of the blankets on the foot corner of the bed. Comfortably he settled for the night. Terri wasn’t for much talk that night. I was not for much talk, either. She looked at Shadow before turning in and said, “Don’t worry sweetie, we will find it.” To me, she said, “Aren’t you going to say goodnight to Shadow?” “Goodnight Shadow”, I whispered weakly as I turned off the light. FOUND: Obviously, we were not going to find the stuffed mouse and I was troubled by my secret. That night in bed was a disturbed night for me. I couldn’t get off to sleep with my usual ease. I must have tossed for hours. Shadow was disturbed too. My constant movements, as I sought the perfect position in bed, prevented him from finding sleep. When he could take no more, Shadow jumped off the bed to seek a more tranquil place, perhaps in another room, to spend the night. Oddly enough, my movements did not disturb Terri’s sleep. I don’t know when, but at sometime I ceased my fitful movements and fell into a deep sleep. In my dreams I had visions of the toy mouse that I had trashed. It was following me. No matter where I went the mouse was moving in the same direction not far behind me. There was no noise in the vision. I suppose there wouldn’t be as the mouse was a stuffed toy. In the early morning darkness my sleep was abruptly terminated. The quiet night air was noisily interrupted. There was a loud scream in the bedroom. Awakened, I struggled to reach, as quickly as I could, for the switch on the bed table lamp. In the brightness of the light coming from the bed table, I turned toward Terri’s side of the mattress. I saw that her half was empty. On her side of the bedroom I could see Terri standing, frightened, in the corner of the room. It was as far as she could get from the bed. Incredulously she exclaimed, “My God, I was awakened by the sound of squealing.” Then in a voice with greater volume she shrieked, “Get them out of this room!” I followed her gaze to the middle of our mattress; to where Shadow was standing in the center of our bed. Terri was not referring to just Shadow alone. She was pointing at Shadow and his toy. Only this toy, hanging from Shadow’s mouth, was alive and very active. It was a field mouse, not a stuffed toy. The squealing mouse was straining as it hung from under Shadow’s whiskers. It was Shadow’s replacement for the lost stuffed mouse. It was his ‘find’; to be donated to the resumption of the game of ‘retrieve’. He was delivering his retrieved target to me in my bed. Shadow’s tail, proudly upright, signaled his expectation for loud approvals. The queasy sight of these two four legged animals so engaged on my bed startled me. In an instant I flung the bed covers off; leaping away to the protection of distance. I did the only thing anyone would do, under the same circumstances. I took Terri by the hand to make tracks to the guest bedroom. Locking the door behind us, we deserted a confused Shadow; in the master bedroom to play his game alone. I would deal with Shadow and the situation tomorrow. It was Wednesday morning. I greeted the lawn service representative on my front lawn. “Thanks for changing your schedule”, I said. “I’m expecting company over the next few days and I want the grounds to look good for my guest.” The kid gave me an understanding nod and continued to pour fuel in his lawn mower. “Gosh, he’s a handsome cat”, my lawn boy said. “Where did you get him?” Shadow is fascinating to observe. His feline movements are sinewy. The hue of Shadow’s short hair is dark charcoal. The shade covers the top of his head and runs uninterrupted to the end of his tail. Shadow’s underbody is snow-white; from his hind section frontward to his chest and beyond, including his bite. The white of Shadow’s chest is broad, bestowing the appearance of strength and agility. The clean and sharp contrasting colors are in perfect balance; presenting the mien of a cat in a tuxedo. “He just turned up one day, and never left.” “How long have you had him?” the kid asked. “For several years. Come to think of it, I’ve lost count.” You’re kidding! What’s the cat’s name? How come I’ve never noticed him before?” the lawn boy exclaimed as, at the same time, he bent over to pet Shadow. “Be careful, kid. The cat’s name is Shadow, and he isn’t very sociable.” As I had expected, Shadow quickly rose from his place to avoid the lawn boy’s lowered hand. The kid recoiled as he watched Shadow rise with unapproachable air and saunter away. “Well I’ll be darned. Spooky little guy isn’t he”. THURSDAY: “Here’s Derby pulling into our driveway. It isn’t even noon yet. I knew that he would get here early,” Terri announced excitedly as she eyed the Massachusetts plates on the car rolling to a stop. As Derby walked to our front door Terri waved to him through the window. “Go open the front door to let him in.” Derby hates winter and travels south every year at this time. This year, our home in Northport was his first stop on his way; and his first visit to our home. He would be with us for a few days. Derby is a middle-aged bachelor. I liked Derby. I had met him before on a visit that Terri and I had made to New England. He is a genial man and I especially enjoy his humorous wit. However, I had reservations concerning his stay; his first stay with us. On the one hand, I knew that Derby traveled well supplied with spirits. According to family stories, Derby’s visits to his bottle of Irish Cream is at times excessive. And, I was concerned about Derby’s possible attempts at playful interaction with Shadow; especially if Derby was under the influence. Shadow’s conversion to domesticity carried forward some limitations. He was warm with me and especially with Terri, with whom he had forged a bond. Shadow was not easily tolerant of people he considered as strangers. He was friendly with the Rond family, our next door neighbors. Shadow saw them every day. He would mingle with Terri’s woman friends during their visits to our house. Shadow was friendly with animals too; on a selective basis. But, men and children were a different story. Shadow did not take easily to men; in particular to men in uniform and to men with hair on their face. He was suspicious of children; frightened by their clamor, sudden movements and reaches. Uneasy in the company of strangers, Shadow preferred to avoid contact, ergo he chose a quick exit. At my first glance of Derby’s happy round red face I saw the first trial for Shadow. Derby’s face adorned a whiter than white trimmed goatee topped with a color-matched mustache. These were new features he had added to his corpulent demeanor since we last saw him. I wondered if the facial hairs would be problematical for Shadow. My fear was confirmed early. At the first sight of Terri’s uncle, Shadow made a dash for safety up the bedroom stairs seeking quiet corners of our home. “Is that the wee cat you wrote to me about?” Derby asked as he spied Shadow’s swift ascent on the stairs. “Yes”, Terri replied. “He is a little shy. But, he’ll be no bother to you Derby. Just ignore him.” “Ignore him? I should say not. I love cats. Don’t be apologizing for him. Before I leave your home, kitty and I will be good friends. You can be sure of that!” Derby was a gracious guest. He made every effort to make his hosts feel at ease with his visitation. “His name is Shadow, is it?” he asked. “How did you come by that name?” “Well”, I replied, “early on in our relationship with Shadow, Terri contemplated a suitable name to cement his adoption. He was, at that time, a foot loose in the woods wild kitten that increasingly visited us from his hideaway somewhere in our nearby thicket. Terri at first suggested we call him ’Tux’; short for ‘Tuxedo’. It was a good name as it was an apt description of his physical appearance. However, the name was subverted by the kitten’s mysterious behavior pattern of abruptly appearing and, just as abruptly, disappearing from our property. This trait, a defense mechanism for protection in a wild environment, led to the selection of ‘Shadow’ as the name of choice.” “Marvelous idea”, Derby said. “Shadow……Shadow…It is a perfect fit.” FRIDAY: Terri and I had an invitation that we could not overlook. We invited Derby to go with us to the party. He declined, wishing to rest at home. It was wise of Derby to do so, as he needed to stay in shape for the balance of the long trip south. He planned on leaving on Sunday morning to avoid the normal load of mid-week business traffic. Derby’s projected route would take him to Virginia for his next stopover. My evening engagement timetable was to depart from home at about seven. We expected to be home not later than midnight. Plenty of can food was left on the kitchen counter top for Shadow. All Derby would have to do is open a can and place its’ contents in the floor dish next to Shadow’s water dish. We also pointed out Shadow’s container of cream, stored in the refrigerator, to Derby. Finally, before leaving we made sure that Shadow’s litter box was strained clean. Derby got settled in our family room as Terri and I prepared to leave for our engagement. He sat comfortably in front of the television watching the last game of a basketball playoff. Near him on the side table was one of our heavy lead crystal cocktail glasses. It contained the remains of Derby’s last pouring of Irish Cream; poured at the end of dinner. Next to his glass was the producer’s attractively shaped bottle with more of Derby’s favorite brand of Irish liqueur. Terri had cleaned the kitchen after dinner. There was no evidence of dining except the noise of the dish washer machine. On our way out the door, Terri turned to me and asked, “Do you think Derby will be alright?” “Sure”, I said. “He’ll be fine. He’s on his last drink. It better be his last. I don’t know how he does it. I’ve lost count of the booze he has had today. Lets see, there were the before dinner cocktails, the wines he brought to dinner, and the after dinner Irish Creams.” Derby showed unmistakable signs of being under the influence when we left him. Terri was concerned for her uncle. I was influenced more about Shadow. I had visions of a pixilated Derby stalking Shadow in a misguided friendly effort to achieve communion. My fears were cut short as I contemplated Shadow’s personality. He would not present himself to strangers. And, from Shadow’s point of view, Derby was a stranger; with a beard and with a mustache to boot. SATURDAY:
Copyright © 2003 John Caruso |