Some of you remember my cat, Lyle. For those who don’t know Lyle, she’s named after Lyle Lovett (yes, I said SHE), and I got her as an orphan 5 1/2 years ago.
My husband and I bottle fed her and tried to turn her into a normal house cat.
I adore certain personality traits and behaviors that she has because of being an orphaned kitten. For instance, most cats hunt. A lot of indoor/outdoor kitties hunt and then bring their “prize” to their owners. Since Lyle wasn’t really ever taught how to be a cat, we have never let her outside. I don’t think that she’d survive. But that doesn’t stop her from hunting. Almost every night she’ll meow in a high pitched different kind of meow, and she’ll drop her “prize” in the water bowl in our bedroom.
The prize that she works so hard on hunting is 9 times out of 10 a sock. Sometimes it will be a baby onesie, Fisher’s toys or a hairband.
She can’t wait for us to see it when we awaken. When I bend down to get it out of the bowl, she’ll sprint to the bowl and beam with pride as I wring it out. And you know how cats crouch down and wiggle their bottom in anticipation of pouncing their prey? When I torment her by wriggling my fingers, she’ll wiggle her bottom and then just run up to my hand and stop. There is absolutely no follow through. No pouncing. So yeah, she’d probably not survive outside. However, that hasn’t stopped her from making a friend outside.
I’ve noticed multiple times over the last several months when I pull into my driveway, our neighbor’s cat runs off from the stoop by my side door. I’ve had no doubt that Lyle is on the other side of the door, and that they’re communicating somehow. It’s like a forbidden romance, and when I pull up, he’s gone in a flash.
Sunday morning, my husband heard meowing that sounded like it came from outside. Lyle came running as fast as she could while meowing short, happy mews until she hopped behind the blinds and into the windowsill. My husband raised the blinds and saw the two of them face to face, and the neighbor’s cat had his paw on the window. He said that it was like a prisoner on the other side of the glass, longing to touch his lady. When the cat got a good look at my husband, he ran off. And in that instance I’m sure Lyle wanted to scream in a teenage voice, “Daaaaaad!”
And now when I see the neighbor’s cat in my yard, I can’t help but get Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” stuck in my head.
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