Damaged Goods, Part 3
Joan called me the night after she took Mitchell. I knew what she’d say...
“He’s gone! We let him out of the carrier, and we haven’t seen him since!”
I laughed as I explained what would happen. Sure enough, three days later Joan called to say that one of her boys had found him under the refrigerator and they managed to coax him out with some warm milk.
For a while theirs was a repeat of our experience. But Joan had better luck with him, perhaps because she didn’t have the distraction of other cats. Soon she had Mitchell sitting on her lap. But he still wouldn’t let the boys touch him, and sometimes he relapsed and swatted at Joan.
Andrew and I missed Mitchell, but Carly didn’t. She was very happy now that she had Princess, and that made me happy. When Carly arrived, she would immediately scoop up Princess and take her into her room. They would spend the evening watching Disney movies together. The Parent Trap was their favorite.
After two months I went to visit Joan and her boys and, of course, Mitchell. After dinner, I sat down on the floor and slowly slid over to where he sat alone on a chair. A few minutes later he climbed down and sat on my lap, allowing me to pet him. Soon he was purring. I was careful not to move my hand in front of him, knowing his reflex. We were pals for about a minute or so, to the amazement of Joan and her boys. Then Mitchell turned his head suddenly and lashed out at my hand. He jumped to the floor and rushed off, low to the ground.
More weeks went by. Joan occasionally reported on the progress she was making with Mitchell. Then one day she called in tears to tell me that Mitchell had evidently suffered a seizure of some kind. She awoke to find him bleeding and scratching at his face frantically. Joan didn’t have the money to pay for a vet visit. I called the shelter and was told that they didn’t have any clues as to what might be afflicting him and that we should take him to our vet. This raised my hackles a bit. What with divorce lawyer fees, furnishing a new domicile for Andrew and me, court costs, co-parenting counseling, braces for both Andrew and Carly, family counseling for Andrew and me, etc., I didn’t have an extra hundred bucks just lying around for a vet visit. But something had to be done for poor Mitchell.
I took the morning off from work, picked Mitchell up, and took him back to the shelter. I was prepared to tell them that they could have their cat back. I thought I had brought home a healthy feline, not damaged goods. And I didn’t have the money for a vet.
After I went in, however, and the receptionist and I watched Mitchell writhing and clawing at his head in the carrier, I asked her if I could take him to the shelter’s vet and put the fee on my credit card. “Poor thing!” she said. She gave me the directions to their vet and called to tell him that I was on the way. There would be no charge.
Later that day I received a call at work. Mitchell had had three abscessed teeth on one side of his mouth. They had removed these and he was now as good as new. I picked him up and took him home…to Joan’s.
A couple days later Joan called, bubbling over with excitement. She said that Mitchell was no longer his old self… he was much better! A miracle, she called it. She said that Mitchell was a new cat, much happier, allowing her to once again pick him up and pet him. Now he even let the boys pick him up! “He’s really playful now,” Joan said, “and more confident. He even goes out on little jaunts in the back yard.”
“Wow,” I said, missing him even more. I really wished I could have kept him. ‘But,’ I told myself, I really couldn’t handle three cats. And allowing Carly to have her own pet, Princess, had turned out to have been a very wise decision. Finally everything was working out.
*****
And that’s where we were when I had gotten that call at work from a very distressed sounding Joan. I called her that night as soon as I got home from work. “Sorry I couldn’t talk today,” I said, “the boss was hanging around my desk.”
“That’s alright.”
“Well, what happened? How’s Mitchell?”
“He’s dead.” Joan started crying.
I waited.
She sniffled and blew her nose.
“I told you he’d been going out the back yard during the day.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Well, he used to go somewhere. The boys thought maybe he had a girlfriend.”
Joan laughed and blew her nose. She sniffled. “He used to cross through the neighbor’s yard. They had a fat mutt that could care less about some cat wandering through. Then, two weeks ago they moved out. The people that moved in have a Pit Bull.” Joan broke down crying again. I waited for her to stop.
“Anyway,” Joan went on, “I kept him in while I was at work. But somebody must have left the window open. The pit got him.” Joan broke down into sobs.
“The neighbors were apologetic,” she said, pushing through her tears. “They called it ‘a fight.’ They said they ran out when they heard the fight.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a fight,” I said, trying to comfort her.
“Yeah,” said Joan. She took a deep, quavering breath. “The lady, she’s really nice, actually. She said it was quick. She heard some barking and went out. She said that Mitchie stood up on his hind legs like he was going to fight. Then there was just a screech, and it was over. The pit bit him on the neck, shook him, and Mitchie was just a hank of fur lying on the grass.”
I listened to her crying on the other end of the line and felt like crap. What could I do? What can you say to comfort someone over this sort of thing? I did my best, pointing out how much improved Mitchell’s short life had become because of her efforts. And I told her that maybe since Mitchell had been sneaking off to romance his girlfriend, there might be little Mitchies coming along.
In between her bouts of crying, we had a few little laughs over Mitchell’s strange behaviors and loving ways. Then we said good night.
After I hung up the phone I recalled Mitchell’s weary, frightened face. What a short, shitty life he’d had. But at least it had been happy towards the end. And that’s where we have to draw our comfort.
Allow me to pass the hat here... I started this blog so I could draw attention to my books. If you’re enjoying this story, chances are you will enjoy one of my books. Please take a look at my latest, Escape From the Future and Other Stories, a collection of sci-fi, fantasy and political satire.