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Musings
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
He would lie there, stretched out in the warm summer sun, as though he were king of the garden. But then, he was, in a way. Before then, he was a mere stranger to me. He was a rather large tomcat, stocky, tough, with tufts of thick gray and white fur, which made him look even larger. His left ear had been clipped, likely in an altercation some time before. His eyes were simply beautiful, large, blue-gray and absolutely disarming.
Henri came to us one fine spring afternoon, as my young daughter and I were having tea in the garden. We had just set out the cups of tea and were about to partake in the refreshments when Henri presented himself. He must have climbed over the fence to be suddenly before us. By way of an introduction, he made a purring-meowing sound that sounded exactly like the French “Henri.” And thus began our wonderful friendship.
Henri must have belonged to someone else because he wore a flea collar and someone unwittingly had clipped his claws. In the early part of our acquaintance, he would come to see us only a few hours a day and would return to we-never-knew-where. But as our friendship grew, he would stay longer and longer with us, basking in our lush garden until he would spend his nights in our basement. But for a short daily stroll, he would remain at our house most of the time. By this time we thought that his owner must have abandoned him.
That Christmastime, I tied a bright red and green ribbon around his neck. He was our Christmas cat and it was to be our first Christmas together. But soon afterward, Henri went on his daily stroll and never returned. I was devastated. When he did not return that evening, my daughter and I, with heavy hearts, searched the entire neighborhood, knocking on doors, hoping someone might have seen Henri. But no one had. The next days, we continued our search, calling the SPCA and even the Animal Control Bureau. There was absolutely no trace of Henri. We consoled ourselves into thinking that perhaps whoever had owned him before had returned for the holidays, and this time, took him away with them. I also thought that Henri might have gone away to die, as some cats do. Wherever he went, we hoped it was to a better place for him, even though we had loved him dearly.
I have never really gotten over his disappearance.
posted by Leslie
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