Bob-Kats on the Road 4-2-11

Just a Cat

2003 - 2011

We arrived in Borrego Springs, California on March 9^th. The next morning was clear and already warm under the sun. The volcanic mountains were stark and beautiful against the blue sky. Bob opened the door for Jo.

We began letting her out during our stay in Falcon, Texas. She is a cautious cat. Cat safety is job one for her. She will watch from relative safety behind the huge tires of the motor home. Then after a some careful observation, she would venture out, dig a little hole before slipping back inside for breakfast.

So, on March 10^th at 7:45 a.m. she walked out the door -- and vanished.

We walked the park looking for her. We called her. We put food out for her. We waited for her. As night fell, we were still waiting. We just sat and waited. We didn’t eat dinner, we didn’t talk, we didn’t have the radio on. We just sat and waited.

Bob was up the next morning at 6:00 walking the park, walking the desert, calling. He made posters with her picture. By 8:00 he had put them up everywhere -- the park where we are, the two others next to us, the bulletin boards by the market, the one on the square, the laundromat, the post office. The following morning they were all replaced by new posters offering $1,000 reward. She is certainly the most famous cat in Borrego Springs. We would have offered more if we thought it would help. But we knew it would more likely make us objects of derision. Like, what kind of stupid people let a $10,000 cat out to play with the coyotes in the desert???

Well, yes, what were we thinking? She was a free cat when she came to me and she always lived her life coming and going as she pleased. When we lived in Mexico and Canada we didn’t let her out. It wasn’t forever and she did have a house to roam around in. And we kept her in the motor home for two months. She adapted, but became rather quirky -- playing with the plastic ring from a milk jug for hours. She ran the length of the motor home, over the bed, over the sofa, skittering this thing in front of her - at night, the middle of the night actually. Then there was what we called Zen water. She would sit staring into her water bowl, then touch it with her paw and move it slightly. She did that for hours, moving it across the floor. But once she got out at Falcon, well, the cat was out of the bag, She ran under our feet, she meowed at the door incessantly. She would look at us like, what part of MEOW don’t you understand, people?

She was happier going out. She would return and hop onto her spot on the dash and lay contentedly, watching people walk by. She always answered when people spoke to her, a polite little animal. If she came back today would I ever let her out again? Not a chance. I would staple all four of her paws to the floor. I would never take a chance with her again -- for her, but mostly for me. I would never want to go through this again.

But in retrospect, she should have been safe. In the three weeks of walking every inch of this place and the desert at all hours, we nave never seen a coyote. There is a dense border of tamarisk trees between the park and the desert with thick tangles of low branches to climb and lots of cover to hide in. People are out on the desert walking their dogs in the early morning. There are in fact numerous cats that live outside in the park -- oddly, at least two of them are orange, a fact which led to raised and dashed hopes quite a few times. The one most often mistaken for her is Rider, a long-haired orange and white cat who jumped ship from his owner’s RV years ago. And though they made several trips here to try to catch him, he resisted and remained free by his own choice. I would often find him laying on top of the maintenance shed looking like a sultan.

One day, we were on our way to town -- which means Brawley 70 miles away -- when I got a call from the park that someone had seen a small orange cat at the shed. Not Rider. We made a U-turn and raced back. I ran to the shed calling Jo. There was a flash of orange through the trees and I could see a cat through a clearing in the branches. It paused and looked back over its shoulder at me for a split second. I can still see that face. Was it Jo? Maybe. But why didn’t she come to me? The cat was gone in a flash and though we searched, put out food and sat waiting by the shed, we never saw the cat again. And we never saw Rider again either. They have found new hiding places.

We’ve done little else but look for her for three weeks. Some days I felt she was here. But after three weeks of silence, of nothing, we have to accept that she is gone. Trying to puzzle out what happened to her is torture. So, she is just gone. Borrego Springs is a beautiful amazing place, but I can’t stay here anymore. So, we will move on down the road, but it won’t be the same. Somehow, with Jo along, we felt like a family. Now it’s just us.

Even as I write, I am listening for the meow I have heard a thousand times. I can imagine opening the door and she will come in like she always did and I will think my little family is inside, safe for another night.