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  • Writer's pictureJill

Berried Treasure!

First of all, let me say that the thumbnail for this video, which shows me in front of the raised bed garden, and shows a close up of my face, reveals something that I am a little self conscious about.

I have a large scar on my nose. It's about a 2 inch long depression and irregularly shaped. I've had three incidences of basal cell carcinoma, in the last ten years, all on my face, of course. A result of baby oil and the beach at 16 years old, I am sure. So I always wear sunscreen whenever I am outside, and a hat and neck scarf too, when I'm gardening. Enough said about that. It's hard to be vain.

Now about my cat.

Her name is Cat. She is feral, but she is crazy about Robert. Let me explain.

In 2009, when my daughter Jackie was graduating from college, just before her grad party in our back yard, 2 little tiny, tiny, just born kittens wandered into our yard from the open lot behind us. They were barely able to walk, they were so tiny and so weak, because their mother had abandoned them. They were trying to drink out of the pool, but were too little and would have drowned if we would have let them.

At any rate, we gave them some milk, and then some food, and they stayed. But they were truly feral. In other words, they were outside cats. They wouldn't let us near them, but they expected us to feed them and considered us their parents and this their home.

One of the cats was a tabby, and the other was our little black and white girl who appears in the video. Unfortunately, one day in the first year, the tabby cat didn't return for dinner. So we never saw him again. But our little girl has been with us for 12 years, and she comes for breakfast and dinner every day. And many days she relaxes on the patio, or in the garden, but if she hears us, or if we walk too near, she skitters away and looks suspiciously at us, like we might harm her.

In her first year with us, we took her to the vet to get her spayed. It was the right thing to do - but boy was she skittish after that. We had to corral her into a pet carrier, and she was very unhappy.

The funniest thing though, is that despite the fact that she is feral, and despite the fact that she won't let us near her, she is crazy about my husband, Robert.

Every evening, she sits at the French doors of our living room, stares inside, and looks at Robert. Sometimes she cries until he opens the door and talks to her. However, when he does open the door, she then walks away, and finds something very interesting on the other side of the patio, and turns her back on him. But the minute that he closes the door she comes back, and sits there and looks at him again.

When I am in the living room, she is no where to be found. This is how I know that she prefers Robert. All our pets have preferred Robert. But I don't have a complex about that.

Really, I don't.

Nonetheless, we love our cat, and worry that her days are numbered. She is definitely getting older, and we can tell it's harder for her to get around. But I just can't think about that now. We want to enjoy her distracting and ignoring us as long as we can.


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