The Cat is Back

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, after a summer's worth of training and becoming, as I must now admit, in fact a moderately accomplished nighttime hunter of chipmunks, mice and even bats, Jasper's back in the house.

Which means he left the other house, being Kate's mother and stepdad's place up in the woods of Maine. I dissed him--terribly--this June as being inept and probably a lifelong failure at catching anything but bugs and ping-pong balls. Well, Jasper proved me wrong. Kate told me a story--left me the story on my voicemail, actually, and it's still there--of how a chipmunk more or less walked into Jasper's mouth while he was asleep. So he managed to catch that one. I also heard about a mouse he'd dropped by the door a few weeks later. Then on one of my visits home, I actually picked up a dead little bat, complete with toothmarks, lying in front of the doorway. How the cat managed to snag a bat I don't know, but it was plain that Jasper was getting his game on.

I hear now that the stereotypical gifts from the cat had become commonplace, and that the squirrels who live in the oak tree outside the door, would chatter angrily when Jasper took up station below it, keeping them from loading their nests for the winter.

I'd seen his outdoor style evolve, from frantic and unfocused in May and June, to tense but controlled in August. I guess one season in AAA has really seasoned the little guy.

Unfortunately Dave, my step-father-in-law, is allergic to cats and the onset of fall, and Jasper's resultant shedding, has brought on a wicked and ongoing case of hives for him. Kate and I don't need much provocation to visit, but rescuing Dave from Jasper, and Jasper from an otherwise uncertain fate, was more than enough. So we made the round trip this weekend--and I rediscovered the joys of a McDonald's vanilla shake, thanks to my wife--and brought the cat back down with us.

Kate had done a splendid job of persuading the landlord--who hates cats--that Jasper would be a harmless addition to the household (which he will be). I actually feel somewhat badly that we pulled Jasper from his new leafy playground, where he'd learned to do what cats do, which is stalk and kill small animals. I feel like he's being busted back down to AA or A ball for no fault of his own. He's my kitty cat, and I do enjoy his company, although Eva and Kate have more than filled the empty space in my life. I certainly haven't missed him these last few months, being in Louisiana or with my two girls, the way I would have as a bachelor. All the same, I'm glad he's back around.

And I know he missed me. As soon as I showed up in Maine, he was at my ankles, and was sitting, if not in my lap, then right next to me (including in the chair next to me at the dinner table. Jasper's pretty charming that way). On the 5-hour drive back down from Maine, the cat spent about 98% of his time in my lap. (I refuse to use a cat carrier.)

So the cat's back. He's christened his litter box, he's eaten half of his food, and almost ventured outside (before chickening out and scampering back in as I closed the door). But soon enough. I doubt he'll find the same rich hunting grounds of critters around here now, and he might wind up in (and lose) a scuffle or two with neighboring cats. We'll see. He was becoming such a happy country cat that I do feel I've dislocated him now somewhat.