When this happened, I was living in a small house with my boyfriend (now my husband) and our two cats. I was especially close with our male cat, my baby. My boyfriend always joked that he followed me around like a little dog. He was always happy to see me, always wanted to cuddle me, and would even lick my hair when I was upset. I had never loved a cat so much.
My boyfriend was out of town for most of the week for work. I had stayed late at work myself this particular night so it was dark by the time my train pulled into the local station. I usually walked home since it was such a quiet, safe place and only about a 20-minute walk. Part of the walk took me past a church with a small graveyard, the edge of the graveyard sort of overlooking the road. I’d never been particularly afraid of cemeteries, always found them rather peaceful, but that night the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I hurried past, but still sort of felt as if I was being followed. I kept checking over my shoulder and had my cellphone gripped in my hand, but I didn’t see anything. I yelled at myself a little for being so stupid and scaring myself. I got home, was grateful for the lights, and locked the door.
My boy cat was at the door to greet me. I thought he might want to go out into the yard, he wasn’t really an outdoor cat but he would wander around the yard with me watching him. He usually begged to go outside with me, but this time, when I went to unlock the door he gave me a strange look and didn’t seem to want to go out. I left the door locked and turned on the TV to try to calm down. My baby stuck with me all night. He seemed more skittish than usual. Anytime there was a loud noise on the TV, or his sister cat or I moved, he would half-jump up and look around wide-eyed.
At bedtime, both cats followed me upstairs. By now, my girl cat was acting jumpy too. I had finished in the bathroom and was standing on the landing at the top of the stairs about to go into the bedroom. I noticed my boy cat staring up at the ceiling, so I looked up. Above the landing was the door to the attic. Suddenly there was a loud, scrapping sound, like metal being dragged along the attic floor. I ran down the stairs and both cats instinctively followed.
I hit the lights on downstairs. I could still hear the noise, now with a rattling sound. I was trying to think what to do. My cat was beside me, looking up at me. He had a funny look on his face, as if he was concentrating hard. He opened his mouth. He said “out.” My boyfriend and I had joked before that his meows sometimes sounded like actual words, but this was so clearly the word “out.” It was still cat-like, like what I imagine a cat accent would sound like if they spoke English, but it was just so clearly the word “out,” that I couldn’t believe it.
I opened the door, scooping his sister cat into my arms as she was freaking out by now, and we all went out. I closed the door behind us but I really had no idea what to do, as it was all so weird and I didn’t want to seem like a crazy person.
I walked towards the front fence caring the one cat. My baby wasn’t following now, but had his back to us while he stared at the front door. And then he just lost it. I’ve never seen a cat behave as he did. He was screeching, twisting his whole body around while he slashed at the air. I put my other cat down and tried to go to him, but he turned around, hissed at me, and gave a slashing motion like he wanted me to stay back. This carried on for a whole minute, while he jumped around and slammed into the ground and look like he was really getting hurt. I was in tears, as I didn’t know how to help him.
And just as suddenly as it started, he stopped. He stared off into the distance a few seconds, then started calmly washing his paws. Eventually he came over and rubbed himself against my leg.
About a month later, I noticed he was bleeding from his paw. I took him to the vet who said he probably got his claw stuck in something and tore the skin getting free. She said is should heal by itself, but after another week, it hadn’t so he had to have stitches. Almost exactly a year later, he started bleeding from his paw again. They ran tests on him but everything came back normal and all they could do was stitch it up again. The bleeding paw continued off and on for another couple of years, although it never seemed to get in the way of his being a happy, fun-loving cat.
Unfortunately, during another round of testing this year, they found cancer, and though he is doing well probably doesn’t have long. I still have no idea what actually happened that night, but it does feel as if he saved me and his sister from something. Sometimes, I wonder if the cancer is related.
Whatever it all means, he is a wonderful brave cat and I will always love him.
