Don’t judge me. I don’t mow my own lawn. I don’t, actually, mow anyone’s lawn. Again, don’t be judging me. My sister and brother-in-law are the ones who take care of the yardwork for me. Don’t get me wrong: I do pay them for mowing my lawn, but that doesn’t mean I’m not spoiled. Thank goodness it’s September now because in August, they left for three consecutive weeks. That means they weren’t here to mow for me. What were they thinking! They had been gone almost a week when I moseyed on over to my neighbors’ house and asked if they would do the mowing for me. They are absolutely wonderful neighbors and said that they would take care of the yard until my regular mowers returned. In preparation for National Good Neighbor Day, which is celebrated at the end of September, I share my own sort of good neighbor story.
In His Eyes
Thoughtless promise
On a hot day in mid-July in 1996, the 80-year-old man steps out his back door and down the two steps to reach the backyard. He hobbles to the middle of the yard where he puts food in a dish for the feral momma cat and her five kittens. One kitten looks just like her momma, who is a calico. Another kitten will grow up to be a yellow, halfway friendly tomcat. The old man talks to the kittens softly as he feeds them. Later that same day, the old man falls in his driveway.
For some reason on that hot July day, I am home from my work as a journalist. I do not remember why I am home, but I’m not an outdoors-type of person, so when I am home, I am in my house. I don’t garden or sit outside on my deck and enjoy the sunshine. On that day, I eventually am drawn away from whatever mundane task I was engaged in and I look out the kitchen window. Being the quick and observant neighbor that I am, I notice right away the big, white and orange square vehicle with its lights flashing in the old man’s driveway.
I’m not all that good of a neighbor, but I decided that I should be a good neighbor, so I took this opportunity to improve my neighbor status. I quickly walked over to the old man lying in his driveway with EMT’s working on him and asked if there were anything he needed me to do while he was away. He shook his head slowly, but then I saw in his eyes that something was bothering him, so I asked again. He then asked if I would feed the feral cat and her kittens. I promptly agreed without any thought to the promise I made. “I’ll feed the kittens until you come home,” I said.
Under the Porch
People's dismay
He never came home. The ambulance carried him away to the hospital and he never came home. I was 32 years old in 1996, and I apparently still had a lesson to learn: do not make promises lightly. At first, I walked to the middle of my neighbor’s backyard to feed the kittens. After all, I didn’t want to disrupt their routine. After a few weeks of that, I eventually determined that the kittens could find their way to my front porch if they were hungry. I also figured the new neighbors wouldn’t appreciate my invading their yard every morning.
Very soon after I started feeding the kittens, the momma cat disappeared. Then, the two black now-older kittens disappeared. Eventually, only the calico and the yellow tomcat were left, but they stuck around for a really long time. The only visit to the veterinarian they made was to be spayed and neutered – after the female cat had one litter of kittens.
The calico and yellow tom would meow at me when I got home from work. They stayed under the porch. Much to many people’s dismay, I never did anything for them except put out food and water. I never put out hay. I never heated their water dish.
Did I mention that they stuck around for a really long time? One year passed. Then, two years. Then, three, four, and five years. They had outlived the average life of an outdoor cat. Then, six years passed. Then, seven, eight and nine years passed. They had outlived the average life of a cat that spent time both indoors and out.
Until Winter of 2014
Friendly tomcat
I told people I couldn’t move until the two cats died because I had to keep my promise. Sometimes, I wished the cats would die. I was tired of the responsibility of finding someone to feed them when I was away from home for work or on vacation. But, when the tomcat died at the age of 11, I realized that I didn’t really want them to die. I understood that I was blessed – I had the honor of keeping a promise, but more importantly, I had the honor of serving another living being.
I missed the friendly tomcat who would rub up against my legs and chat with me. Unlike the tom, the calico was never friendly and always demanding. She continued to live well beyond the lifespan of a feral cat. Her fur became ratty and patchy. She lost her hearing and would jump out of her loose skin when I went out to feed her because she would not know that I was there. She looked as though she suffered from arthritis, but she continued to live underneath the porch and to eat the food I put out for her – until the winter of 2013-2014.
Beyond Expectations
Ferocious winter
She was now 17 ½ years old. I kept thinking that this harsh, bitter winter would be the one to free her from this world, but then, I would remember that I hadn’t thought she would survive the last winter or the winter before that or the winter before that.
However, by January 2014, even healthy, young people were hoping spring would come early. The temperatures had been dropping below zero and staying there. The wind chill warnings were a staple of that winter. Snow came regularly and heavily. On January 4, the weather gave us a reprieve, so most people who were attending my friend Sue’s grandmother’s funeral were able to get to the funeral and the cemetery.
After the funeral, I went back to the church and spent a couple hours with Sue. I told Sue and her husband about the Olde One and her ability to live beyond expectations. The next day, the ferocious winter returned with blizzards and dangerous wind chills.
In a Routine
Pitiful mewling
The predicted blizzard did arrive with those 20 below zero temperatures. On Tuesday, January 7, I bundled up to go out to feed the Olde One. She mewed pitifully from underneath the porch. I apologized to her. I was sorry that I could not do anything more than feed her. I couldn’t warm her up. I couldn’t bring her inside. I couldn’t put her out of her misery.
I continued to put food and water out for her because she had disappeared before for several days and then shown up again – right after I had given up on her ever returning. So, I kept up the routine even though I thought the winter of 2014 had truly killed her. In fact, I never heard from her again.
Now, I am free of the responsibilities of feeding any animals. The Olde One was the last to go. Now, I tell my friends that I’m not moving until I die. Let’s all hope that I continue to have good family and good neighbors who will mow my yard for me until then.
Sending you good neighbor vibes,
Angela Jane