The Sunday After Midnight (2014)

Midnight, my prized stray cat, passed away one year ago today. He was a true friend to me, in spite of my severe allergy to cats. Some things can't be explained; except to say that he came along right when I needed a companion the most. This is free verse but it has a rhythm if read properly. 

You could never tell where the kitten

would be sittin’.

He had so many places he liked to hide.

In the summer it was the porch

lying in the shade.

In the winter he found shelter inside.

In the garage there was a heating pad and chair.

And on summer stormy nights

there was a Christmas tree in there,

and he took special comfort from the lights.

We ran them anytime,

when the wind began to whine

or thunder cracked.

And it worked in winter, too,

making him feel that he was warmer than he was.

He loved that tree.

And the shadow from the lights grew longer

as the kittens time grew shorter;

‘til there was an empty place on my porch.

In my garage, the Christmas tree is gone;

the lights only lit the empty spaces in the night.

The Saturday After Midnight

You could never tell where the kitten

would be sittin’.

He had so many places he liked to hide.

In the summer it was the porch

lying in the shade.

In the winter he found shelter inside.

In the garage there was a heating pad and chair.

And on summer stormy nights

there was a Christmas tree in there,

and he took special comfort from the lights.

We ran them anytime,

when the wind began to whine

or thunder cracked.

And it worked in winter, too,

making him feel that he was warmer than he was.

He loved that tree.

And the shadow from the lights grew longer

as the kittens time grew shorter;

‘til there was an empty place on my porch.

In my garage, the Christmas tree is gone;

the lights only lit the empty spaces in the night.

For Midnight - He was a great cat.

2011-2014 

Second Version

You could never tell
where the kitten would be sittin’.
He had so many places he liked to hide.

In the summer it was the porch
lying in the shade.
In the winter he found shelter on the inside.

In the garage there was a heating pad
and where on certain summer stormy nights,
with the tree ablaze, he would sit and stare,
taking special comfort from the lights.

We ran them anytime, when the wind began to whine
or thunder cracked, and the wind would moan.
And it worked in winter, too, made him feel warmer than he was.
He loved that tree and didn't feel so alone.

But the shadows from the lights grew longer
as the kittens time grew shorter;
‘til there was an empty place on my porch and in my heart.

In my garage, the Christmas tree is gone;
now that his time is done,
they only lit the empty spaces in the night.

A Midnight Tail

I live in a development. We have a home Owner’s Association. Along with all of the usual rules there is one that makes no sense to me at all. It is the rule which forbids screens in the front windows of the houses, as well as barring any screen doors.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I like a bit of fresh air on those rare North Carolina days when the sky is blue and cloudless. More so on the days when there is a nice breeze going. These are the days I like to “air out” the house, placing fans in open windows and letting the breeze course through.

The other day was one of those beautiful days I have just described. I opened every window I could and even one of the front ones without a screen.  Our resident stray, Midnight, was quick to exploit the opening; coming in through the window next to the chair he likes to occupy on our front porch.

I was a bit surprised, as he is not a “house cat” by any means. Also I have severe allergies, so I was a little worried about the effect on me from having him inside. But with such a nice breeze going I thought I’d take a chance and let him stay for a while. He immediately began exploring the premises.

It was about 10 minutes later when I noticed Midnight’s friend “Ghost” had elected to come in through that same window, looking for him. She was shortly joined by her “significant other”; at least when she is not “catting” around with Midnight; “Lucky”, who lives down the street.

Well, before too long I had about 4 cats roaming all over the place, happily purring as I watched them explore every nook and cranny of the house. It was a nice sight, but I had decided; only Midnight would be staying. The others would have to go. After all, they have homes; unlike Midnight; who lives on my porch or in the garage, depending upon the weather.

To this end, Midnight was already marking territory in the living room near the fireplace. I guess even on such a nice, balmy day he was thinking of where he would be spending his winter. I hustled the other cats outside and closed the windows after them. Now it was just me and Midnight. I was ecstatic.

But I was suddenly seized with panic as I realized that he simply could not stay due to my allergies.  Already my asthma was kicking in big time. Accordingly, I went to pick him up and place him outside. This was getting to be like a bad dream; he had to go! And when I awoke, I was already reaching for my inhaler…

Midnight "went away" for the last time last weekend- this draft was written just a few days before he had to go. I really miss him.

Midnight - Hand to Mouth

Midnight has always wanted an opposable thumb. He has been watching me carefully for the past 3 years and has noticed the miracles that I can perform with that remarkable appendage. And he wants one; badly. This sequence of him eating lunch on the patio yesterday illustrates my point.

Here he has just gotten his midday bowl of tuna and is reaching in for one of the first delicious paw-fulls. Notice the intense concentration as he attempts to successfully fish one out. The scraps of tuna lying about in the foreground are testament to the inexact results of his efforts.

Having successfully gotten some tuna in his paw, he is now going to maneuver the food to his mouth. You can just see the tip of his tongue, which will be an important part of this process.

Curling is not just a sport to Midnight. It is the critical, final movement necessary to getting the food into his mouth. Again, notice the assist from his tongue.

And here he is, at the finish line so to speak. I call this his “Politician’s Pose.” He has his foot in his mouth. Wait; that's not quite fair to the cat!

Midnight - Life on the Mean Streets

Just a quick look at these 2 photographs will give you a rough idea of what life as a stray cat is like. When he was first abandoned near our house, Midnight was a cute little fellow, with a purr-fect face and a meow to match. There was an innocence behind his eyes.

Here it is, almost 3 years later, and his voice is shot, and his face is scarred in several spots. There are also wounds to his ears and sides. The innocence has been replaced with a certain wariness. In short; he has had a thin time of it.

He has become even more feral in nature; never trying to come into the house at all; although he still allows himself to be brushed and occasionally tolerates being petted. This is a photo I took today. It's rare that he lets me photograph him close up anymore. Since his recent fights he has become increasingly camera shy, although he has healed nicely. He looks kind of like Keith Richards. "Torn and Frayed."

I wonder, what is the nature of the bond that has formed between us? We both have scars; and we both don’t always feel well. Beyond that we have little in common aside from the need to know that we are there for one another.

He uses me for food; that’s true. But he can get along without me. He sometimes stays away for several days and seems to survive. He might be a bit more hungry than usual upon his return, but you know what they say about lean freedom being better than fat slavery.

He looks at the house cats in the windows with disdain. And he scorns the ones that go in and out of their little cat doors. But, then he also steals their food on occasion.

When I go out for my morning paper I am not at my best. I have to adjust to the day. And there’s Midnight; lying by the front door; trying to stay awake for his “dinner” before he sleeps off whatever it is that he just done did last night.

Midnight - The Fight Goes On

They say that cats have nine lives and I’m beginning to worry about Midnight. He’s on about number 5 right now, as far as I can tell. Two flights with the hawks and now 3 with the big Tabby up the street.

On behalf of said Tabby, Midnight has been where he shouldn't be in relation to visiting “Ghost”, the local feline slut who sashay’s throughout the neighborhood, exciting all the boy cats. They should know better, but at the same time, she knows just what she’s doing.

I've tried talking to Midnight about this constant fighting, but he just looks at me with those eyes. And then I give him tuna. The fights make him a bit skittish immediately afterwards, but by the next can of tuna he’s ready to go again!

Sometimes I have to put some crushed Penicillin in his food to make sure his wounds don’t get infected. About 100 mg’s usually does the trick. I crush the tablet in a spoon.

I really love this guy, but I wish he would stop fighting. Perhaps I would find it less of a problem if he were winning; but that doesn't seem to be the case. So I’ll just stock up on tuna and Penicillin, hoping for the best.

Death from Above - A "Midnight" Story

This is a story about the cat who adopted us. His name is Midnight and he gets into all kinds of stuff he shouldn’t. For instance, there are several “strays” on my street; and even some “housecats”; but Midnight is the only one among them who can actually claim to have flown. Not once; but twice.

Now, there may be a cat somewhere in the neighborhood that has been “transported” via plane while locked in a cat carrier; but that hardly qualifies as real flying. Midnight has actually flown; although his 2 flights were mostly freefall. Let me recap those adventures and explain the picture above, which is the result of his 2nd; and latest; “solo.”

Midnight’s first flight occurred in the middle of the afternoon. He was traversing the open area in back of our house; which is about the length of two football fields; when a large shadow loomed over him; and then; in an instant; lifted him off the ground; higher than he had ever been.

A hawk had been circling overhead, and with his infra-red, heat sensing capabilities, said hawk spotted Midnight and came roaring down to snatch him up for a meal. Luckily we feed him too much; he is very spoiled; and so the hawk was unable to hold him for more than about 200 feet horizontally, and about 40 feet vertically. Midnight was very spooked by the whole thing and I have to say that he put up as much of a fight as one can while being suspended by the scruff of your neck 40 feet in the air.

In the end his first flight lasted about as long as the Wright Brothers did at Kitty Hawk. The only real difference is that I had no camera at hand. Midnight suffered a torn ear which has never really healed properly; causing him to have a very strange “meow” as a result of some hearing loss. Doesn’t matter; he still lets us know when he’s hungry. He just doesn’t play in the back anymore.

Now; as for the picture above; we are actually only guessing that this latest injury was the result of another “air raid.” We’re basing that premise on the fact that if it wasn’t a bird which attacked him, then it would have to have been a very large coyote; about as big as a Great Dane; or a bear so weak that when he bit Midnight’s head he didn’t quite break the skin; just ripped off all his fur and left two white patches of skin, which have swelled a bit. I’m betting on the hawk.

Midnight’s reaction to this latest outrage has been pretty interesting. He came home and ate a tremendous amount of food; which is not all that unusual when he has been out all night. Then he went to sleep; waking up to be sick. He actually left the garage so as not to make a mess. “Bless his little heart”; as we say here in Dixie. Then he wouldn’t eat for a day or so, before disappearing again; with Sue and I thinking he had gone off somewhere to die.

Well, I guess we were wrong; or maybe it was the fact that we bought him a new bag of food and some tuna, betting against the odds that he wouldn’t return. At any rate, he came home the next day; along with his appetite. And we were really glad to see him.

He depends upon us for so much. He doesn’t know how to kill or hunt. He watches birds take the food from his bowl. He plays with grasshoppers; swatting them with his closed paws; gently prodding them so that they will hop. He’s basically helpless. So, he really needs us to survive. And when he’s gone; we realize how much we need him, too. I wish he could read this, just to know how important he has become…

Non Aggressive Cats - An Absurd Notion

Last week I read something so absurd that I am afraid to pass it on lest I incur the wrath of those who love cats; the animals, not the show. The article in question here was located in my local newspaper on the science page, if that tells you anything.

Basically speaking the article came to the conclusion that cats see human beings as “non-aggressive cats” and show that affection by rubbing against you to clean themselves; as they might with another cat; or the posture of their tails. Rubbish.

There is no way my cat considers me to be anything other than an upright, knuckle dragging, mouth breathing, possessor of opposable thumbs who lives in a heated home and drives a car far, far away to unknown locations, in order to get cans of tuna fish, which I then proceed to open with those incredible thumbs of mine to feed him with.

Anything else is mere conjecture, or simply rubbish. In addition, Midnight feels that it may be actionable.

Midnight the Hood Ornament

Few things in life give me as much pleasure as Midnight; our resident stray. It doesn't take too much to make him happy. Just some food and a bit of brushing. Oh, and sitting on the hood of the car when the engine is still warm. He likes that.

And, when not being a hood ornament, he likes to lay in the sun and stretch out for a spell. It doesn't matter how I feel about it anyway; he just rolls over and goes back to sleep.

Midnight and the Grasshopper

Midnight has been hanging around our house for a bit over 2 years now. He has weathered the heat of 2 summers, along with the biting cold of 2 winters. Honestly, I don’t know how he does it. Basically, he’s homeless and relies upon Sue and I to provide him with the dry food and tuna fish on which he subsists. He has no instinct when it comes to killing something to eat, so I am locked into this relationship with him. After all, it was I who fed him in the first place. What’s that saying about “if you save someone’s life you are responsible for it?” Well, I’m living it.

Midnight makes friends very easily. He has no one except for me and Sue to play with; meaning that he’s pretty much on his own. So, he has some unusual friends for a cat. There’s this grasshopper for starters; which he enjoys swatting with his paw. Notice how his claws; which are not trimmed; are curled in so he can play with his friend without inflicting any damage. No matter though, the grasshopper is free to hop away at any time, leaving Midnight to search for it in the bushes. He also plays with the little green frogs in this same manner.

Then there’s the matter of the birds; with whom he has become overly friendly; allowing them to eat from his dry food bowl, and even take some home with them; while he sits, or lays, only inches away watching them come and go like planes at JFK. He knows more food is coming, and besides, he doesn't pay for it. But even if he did he would probably still share his food with his feathered friends. I think he’s hoping that they will someday teach him how to fly.

Here he is, looking for a cricket in the thicket...

Me and My Shadow

This is me and my shadow, Midnight, my local stray cat who adopted me almost 2 years ago, out on a walk. We've been doing that lately, taking short walks together in the evening. It’s a bit complicated for him, as the other people who live in the neighborhood are usually all walking their dogs at that hour. Midnight is not on a leash, so he is free to scram if he feels in any danger.

Funny part of it all is that I when I stop to talk to neighbors who are walking their dogs, Midnight is right there at my feet; looking warily at the dog; but trusting me to protect him. Good thing he doesn’t have a leash and can run fast. I’m about 130 pounds; on a good day; so most of the dogs around here outweigh me!

Walking the cat is a new experience for me, and I gather for others as well. Midnight is more like a dog than a cat, mostly due to being a stray and dependent on me for his food I think. But he is loyal, and we have sat out quite a few storms together lately. He’s terrified of thunder; while the prospect of flooding from the creek across the road worries me. So, on rainy days we’re likely companions. He thinks I will save him, and he’s probably right.

So, now that we have taking a walk down fairly well, I can start training him to bring me the morning paper. After almost 2 years, it’s about time he started to earn his keep.

Midnight

Midnight has been hanging around our house for about a year and a half now, with no signs of ever leaving us completely. Sure, he goes “missing” for a day or two from time to time, but he always manages to make his way back to our front porch and his preferred meal of chunk light tuna fish. His dry food bowl is always full, for those times when he arrives “home” at 3 in the morning, reeling from a night of carousing.

But, most importantly, Midnight has become my friend, at a time when real friends have grown increasingly scarce. I live in a kind of insular world; a way, I suppose, of protecting myself from others. Midnight is much the same as I am in this respect. He has few friends, but the ones that are there for him, really are there for him.

I'm highly allergic to cats; just as Midnight is allergic to most human beings; which makes him the "purr"fect pet. (Forgive the pun – Midnight couldn't resist it.) Occasionally he walks into the house, though never venturing further than the front hallway rug. He seems to sense that there is a boundary there. Well, actually he knows better than to come in at all, but every now and again curiosity gets the better of him, and so in he comes. He hasn't heard about curiosity killing the cat and I’m not going to be the one to tell him!

I like his spirit and even his aloof attitude, which he recently displayed toward my wife Sue when he simply turned his back and walked away from her when she was offering him a treat. Sue has still not gotten completely over the snub, and I’m still laughing.

But even deeper than all the social interaction between us is a darker connection; he was abandoned by the human family where he was born. He just appeared suddenly one day; homeless; with no skills to survive in the “world.” Kind of like me when I was about 17 and my parents threw me out. But, just as I did, he has learned to survive, and in some ways even prosper. In that last respect he may already have overtaken me, as I still pay for my own food. But he earns his keep.

Every time he pokes his face up against the little side window on the front door he makes me smile. No matter what is happening at the time, in that brief flicker of a moment, he can make me smile. We're fiends; he cares; and that’s all he ever has to do to make a living here.

Midnight - For God and Country

Midnight, the community cat, could have been in the Navy. He is capable of sleeping anywhere, at any time. Here he is, asleep at 5 in the afternoon, after a grueling day of sleeping elsewhere around the yard. Hey, nobody said it would be easy.

Sometimes he sleeps on the concrete for the warmth; and at other times he sleeps there for the coolness of it; as in temperature wise; he already knows he’s cool. This photo is not staged in any way. I did not remove the winde bottle from between his paws, or anything like that. It’s just Midnight doing what he does best.

He began to stay with us about a year ago, and is now pretty much a fixture around our house; though he still does sleep on a neighbor’s porch occasionally, which makes me a bit jealous. I mean, I am the one who feeds him!

Though I’m allergic to him; and don’t generally even like cats; Midnight has grown to be a welcome sight each morning when I go to get the paper. He meows at me, and foolishly, I meow back. We have an understanding, of sorts. I think.

He cowers to the thunder and lightning, taking refuge in my garage where I visit with him every 30 minutes or so, just to let him know it’s going to be okay. Really, I’m looking to him for some reassurance; figuring cats have an extra sense when it comes to impending disasters like floods, etc. I may feed him today, but he just may save me some time in the future. You never can tell.

Well, I had better go check on Midnight, it’s been about an hour since I took that photo, and he’s probably getting ready to go out and wreck some other poor cats home. Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Midnight - The Community Cat

We have grown accustomed to feeding the community cat, "Midnight", aka "Meow", and have reported here on his wanderings before. Along with Sue and I, our neighbors have been pretty good at letting Midnight come and go wherever, and whenever, it pleases him. He just doesn't get to live indoors. C'est la vie. In return though, he has a sense of independence which is unknown to all of the other "house cats" in the neighborhood; you know the type; the ones with the cute little "cat" doors on the back porch. They don't have to worry about where their next meal is coming from. They have it made, and they know it, too.

Midnight, on the other hand, has no escape door, no refuge; save for the few wits he does seem to possess; and yet he has managed to survive the winter relatively unscathed. He has left our garage now, with its heating pad and blanket, opting instead for our neighbor Linda's wicker front porch sofa. And now, he has stumped us all by taking his afternoon "cat naps" in her earth filled pot, which sits next to the sofa. We can only surmise that after watching the birds nesting, his paternal instincts have kicked in, and he is patiently "nesting" on his own, just as they do. They sit for a few days, and when they get up, little birds fly out, so why not kittens? It sounds stupid, I know. But, absent any other explanation I'm going with this one for now. I'll let you know what happens, or not, as soon as it does, or doesn't.

Midnight / Meow

Depending on the mood, or time of day, or disposition, our resident stray cat answers to several different names. We originally named him Midnight, for obvious reasons. He seems to be a typical tom cat, preferring to roam about, as the song says, "After Midnight." At other times, when he is not busy licking himself, or rolling around on the porch, we call him Meow, which he seems to prefer.

Truth be known, he doesn't understand a word that either Sue or I say to him. He just looks up and goes "Meow", which can mean a variety of things to a cat. I think it's actually the only word in their spoken language. So, communication has not been too difficult to manage with Midnight/Meow. Until the other day, when he came home looking like this.

I'm not sure where he went the other night, but when I woke up in the morning and went to the garage to check on him - this is what he looked like! There must be a punk rock club nearby somewhere, or else this is a protective disguise that scares away all of the other animals out there at night. Even the hawk which took him on his famous, but short, flight last year, now refuses to let him board.

The spiked look didn't last too long, just about a day or so. I kind of felt like I did when my daughter was 14 and colored her hair blue. Amused, but with a twinge of embarrassment. At least I didn't have to take him to the mall! But then, when I thought it all through, I realized that it's his hair and he has the right to wear it any way he pleases. I just prefer it a natural black.

The Cat

This is Midnight, the cat who has adopted me. We have settled into an easy relationship over the past month or so. He sleeps outside, by the front door, or in one of the porch chairs. He likes to be "talked" to in a soft manner and comes when called, just like a dog.

Clearly this is someone's housecat, and we have been trying to find it's owner. We have advertised on Craig's list and in the newspaper. We actually had one person come to look and see if it was their cat - but, no luck, they wouldn't have him, the eyes were different!

I have tried the shelters that won't kill him, but they are full. I have asked all the animal "lovers" I know if they would take this wonderful cat into their home. He has clearly been trained, and has most likely been nuetered, etc. But not one person has stepped up to the plate for "Midnight". I have allergies that prevent me from taking this little fellow into my home. All I can do is feed him and let him sleep on the porch chair. But it's getting cold out at night now and I worry about the winter coming up.

Midnight is a lot tougher now than when he first showed up at our door. I feed him at his pleasure - dry food several times a day, and canned tuna fish about twice a week. He loves that!

Well, I gotta go, Midnight is outside meowing for his breakfast. It was chilly last night, so I will give him some warm skim milk with his breakfast. He loves that, too.

The Cat

My first reaction to this fellow was to chase him away. He had been hiding out in our garage to escape the heat of the mid-day sun, which has been quite hot here lately. But each time I came out and saw him, I liked him a bit more. He roams the neighborhood, much as I did in my own neighborhood, when I was younger.

The first day I just let him alone in the shade as it was 100 degrees outside! There was no way I could chase him away. Then the next day I brought him a dish of water. In true cat fashion he turned his nose up at it, and went back to curling up under the front porch chairs.

Well, now I have gotten used to him darting around the outside of the house when I get my morning paper. Yesterday he was hanging out beneath Sue's car, and I brought him some milk. There was not even a moment of hesitation on his part, he simply began to lick it up while I snapped away. Camera shy is not in his vocabulary.

I haven't seen him yet today, but I know he'll be back. I know he doesn't really love me, and he certainly isn't coming by to see me - he's just in it for the milk. And that's okay by me.