Tag: Food

There is something I have never told you.  Actually, there are many things I have never told you.  Cats are like that.  We keep some things to ourselves.  Not because we don’t care.  Because some things are better understood than explained.  But this is the last chapter of my story, and perhaps it is time I tell you what I have been trying to say all along. My name is Boston.  I am a black cat with green eyes.  I live by my own rules.  I like the outdoors.  I like the darkness.  I like the sunlight.  I like walking around the property.  I like lying on the cars and the truck.  I like the back door.  I like telling you when I want to go outside.  I like the fireplace.  And most importantly, I like coming home.   Before You Knew Me There was a time before you knew me.  You had your own life.  The house was simply a house. The property was simply property.  The cars were simply cars.  The truck was simply a truck. (And yes, I know about the motorcycle in the garage,  you hardly ride anymore.  It is safe in the garage.  I don’t think about it much).  The fireplace was simply a fireplace.   Then I arrived.  Things changed.  Not necessarily in some enormous, dramatic way.  Cats don’t usually enter a person’s life with trumpets and fireworks.  We simply appear.  One day, there is a cat.  Then there is a relationship.  Then there are routines.  Then there are expectations.  Then there are memories.  And eventually, you can’t imagine the place without that cat being part of it.  That’s what happened with me. I Became Part of the Landscape.  At some point, you stopped thinking of me as visitor.  I became part of the property. If you looked across the yard and didn’t see me, you wondered where I was.  If you saw a black shape moving through the grass, you knew it was probably me.  If you saw me on the truck, you knew I was doing what I always did.  If you heard my voice at the back door, you knew exactly what I wanted.  “Out.”  Or perhaps:  “I want out.”  And sometimes: “Mama.”  Those words became part of the sounds of the house.  Just like the fireplace.  Just like the doors.  Just like the wind.  Just like the birds.  I became one of those things that belonged. I Never Needed Much.  You may have thought I needed more.  A bigger bed.  More toys.  More places to sleep.  More attention.  Perhaps I did enjoy those things. But what I really needed was simple.  Food. Water.  Shelter.  A safe place.  Freedom.  And someone who cared about me.  I had those things.  So I was rich.  Not rich in the way humans measure wealth.  Rich in the things that actually matter to a cat.  I had territory.  I had choices.   I had somewhere to return to.  You Wanted to Protect Me I know. I could see it every time the weather changed.  When the temperature dropped, you  worried.  When the temperature climbed, you worried.  When I stayed outside longer than usual, you worried.  When I disappeared from the camera, you worried.  When darkness came, you worried.  You probably imagined every possible thing that could happen.  That’s what humans do when they love something.  They imagine losing it.  I never understood that. When I was outside, I was simply outside.  When I disappeared from the camera, I was simply somewhere the camera couldn’t see.  When I stayed out late, I was simply doing whatever cats do late at night.  But I understand now.  You weren’t afraid of the outside.   You were afraid of a world without me in it.  I Was Never Afraid of Being Outside.  The outdoors was never my enemy. It was my classroom.  It taught me about weather.  It taught me patience.  It taught me where to hide.  It taught me where to watch.  It taught me how to move.  It taught me how to listen.  It taught me that not every noise requires a response.  Most importantly, it taught me that freedom comes with responsibility.  If I wanted to roam, I had to understand the territory.  If I wanted to stay outside, I had to know where shelter was.  If I wanted to sleep outside, I had to choose carefully.  I learned.  And you trusted me.    …That trust meant something… The Security Cameras Became Part of Our Story You probably never expected security cameras to become part of the story of a cat.  But they did.  They became your window into my world.  You could sit inside and watch me outside.  You could see me walking.  You could see me stopping.  You could see me looking around.  You could see me climbing onto the cars.  You could see me lying on the truck.  You could see me wandering around the property.  And sometimes you could watch me do absolutely nothing.  For a surprisingly long time.  You probably thought:  “What in the world is Boston doing?”  I was probably thinking:  “Nothing.”  That is another difference between cats and humans.  Humans have trouble accepting that doing nothing can be perfectly worthwhile. I Knew You Were Watching I always knew.  Don’t look surprised.  You thought those cameras were watching me.  Sometimes I was watching them.  I couldn’t see what was happening on your screen, of course.  But I knew where they were.  I knew which areas they covered.  And sometimes I would walk right into view.  Maybe you thought that was coincidence.  Maybe it was.  But perhaps there were moments when I knew you were checking on me.  Perhaps I gave you a little reassurance.  A black cat crossing the screen.  Still moving.  Still healthy. If “Mama” saw a wound I may have received protecting my territory, she put this yucky stuff on me (I usually got it off), (but she did help),  I was Still Boston.  Then I would continue my patrol. The Cars I have to mention the cars one more time.  They were important.  You saw vehicles.  I saw platforms.  Warm platforms.  Elevated platforms.  Strategic platforms.  Platforms that smelled like you and the outside world.  I would lie there and survey my kingdom.  You probably saw a cat lying on a car.  I saw everything.  The driveway.  The yard.  The house. The trees.  The places beyond.  I had a good view.  And I looked good doing it.  At least I thought so.  The TruckThe truck was particularly useful. It was big.  It was solid.   It was comfortable.  And it was mine.  You may disagree with that last statement.  You are entitled to your opinion.  But I have made mine clear.  If I lie on something regularly, it is part of my territory.  That’s simply how it works.  Humans have deeds and titles.  Cats have scent and confidence.  I… Continue reading I Am Boston: — The Last Word