Silent Cats

It has been quiet lately. I have almost missed the phone calls from strange old ladies wanting to give a home to a pussycat. Often they had to share little anecdotes of their furry children. One such grandma had to tell me of her own kitty cat who would walk right up to her on the couch and stick her tail in her face. "She wanted to show off her 'rosebud' to me," the grandma said proudly. I had never heard of a cat's bottom been described as a rosebud before, butt, sorry I mean, but, to each their own I suppose.

At least there weren't any scary ladies this time. During the last housing downturn I ended up with several stray cats at my door, abandoned by owners who moved away I surmised. I gave them tidbits and fed my own kitty inside. My husband and I feared if we waited too long the outside cats would soon create kittens. I placed my free ad in the Pennysaver advertising homeless kitties and the phone began to ring.

There was the lady who owned a hardware store who wanted a mouser. A young couple took the tom cat. There were many who wanted a kitten and hung up when they found out they were grown cats. Then there was the old lady who stuffed them.

I didn't know she stuffed them. At first she seemed quite sane. Then she spoke of having twenty-some cats, all inside. A warning bell went off in my head, I asked why they didn't go outside. "I have the dogs out there. Twelve of them are running around out there.They are fine out there but the neighbors keep reporting me," she calmly answered.

So she lived somewhere in Fontana with an acre lot full of dogs, and probably a lot of what comes out of dogs, as well. Her house was full of cats, and probably smelled of what comes out of cats. But that wasn't the scary part.

I we talked more I realized she was a few kitty treats short of a full bag. I was intrigued though. How did she managed so many cats inside? "Oh they each have their own place. Some are on the couch, some have their own chair." I pressed further. How would anyone deal with the all litter boxes and food? The cost must be incredible. I knew of the area she must live. It was a semi-rural place with tiny cracker box houses on desolate land with plastic bags and trash blown against the chain link fences.

"I don't have to feed all of them. Only about eleven of them eat." She told me plainly.

"What about the rest?" I asked innocently

"They stay on the chairs and sofa where I placed them."

Not understanding how anyone could get a cat to stay where they put them was beyond me. I asked how that was possible.

"When they pass I have them stuffed. They are posed so naturally. They're curled up just like they are asleep." She explained proudly.

My jaw dropped. Okaaay. That just eliminated her from the adoption process. I stammered something about there being several other people ahead of her wanting the cat. I dutifully listened as she gave me her phone number and pretended to write it down. I hung up with my head filled with visions of a dark, cramped house filled with stiff sleeping cats on every piece of furniture and live cats weaving in and out among them.

About an hour later I realized I should have written down her number and asked for an address. Then I could have sent someone out there trained to help people like her. This was years before caller id. The old lady never called back. As far as I know she's still out there amongst the tumbleweeds and dust in her little house filled with silent cats.