Stimpy is our “neighborhood” cat. He roams around visiting everyone, hanging out for a while then moving on. He was once the pet of my neighbor across the street, but really spent most of his time a few doors down where neighbor #2 keeps food for her own cat and others roaming the neighborhood.
A month or two ago, Stimpy’s owner left the neighborhood to move in with her fiance. She took her dog and her other cat, but Stimpy just didn’t get along with the fiance’s dog, so he was left behind in the charge of neighbor #2.
He seems his old self, but recently I have begun to feel sad for him. You see, his old house is now for sale. Every time someone shows up to look at it, Stimpy rushes down the street and sits on the stoop, clearly hoping that his family has returned. And after a while, he sadly wanders away.
It’s doubly sad for me, because when I left DC, I adopted my cats out to a family after a long, stressful search. I simply couldn’t make the move cross country with three pets, and the cats — of course — seemed the most aloof and independent.
But now I can’t stop thinking about Boothby and Squeaker, and if they sit, two years later, at the door of their new home wondering if I am coming back.
Dropping them off somewhere is far different than leaving them behind. Cats, and dogs, know the difference.