Pets are an unending source of stories. Late last year I shared the story of my cat Oscar who died from feline leukemia (read here and here). I now have another cat named Arwen (given to me by my brother-in-law’s aunt and uncle). Having a furry friend is a blessing. Anyone who has a cat or dog will understand.
Like Oscar she is a former stray, and like Oscar she loves to spend time outside. Sometimes she only comes in long enough to eat and then wants to go back out. During the past few weeks she sometimes would not even stay long enough to eat. She would come in, sniff her bowl, and then ask to go back outside. I wondered whether she was sick or hunting for her food. I then received my answer.
One Wednesday morning as I prepared to go to work she brought in a live lizard. On Thursday morning she brought in a rodent. On Friday night she brought in a dead bird and scattered feathers on the kitchen floor and den carpet. I assumed these animals were intended to be presents for me, but as I carried Arwen in one hand and the bird (wrapped in a paper towel) in the other hand to put them outside she struggled as if saying, “Give it back! That is my bird!” She then ate it outside, and later that night I found nothing but feathers.
She is small, only seven pounds full-grown, but she is not afraid of adventure. The call of the wild has a strong grip on her heart. When it is very cold she will spend more time inside with me, but when the weather is nice, she yearns to go back to her playground. The woods surrounding my house contain foxes, raccoons, and coyotes, but they do not stop her. The wild is calling. She must roam. She must hunt. She must have adventure. Especially at night; night-time is prowling time. Sometimes she will stay inside and take a nap on the spare bed or play with a toy or rest on my lap, but eventually she will go back outside. Sometimes I wish she would stay inside for a while longer, but I understand when she waits by the door. It is time for more fun.