Cats With Hands

Monica Ackerman

My friend Ali called me one day last fall and reminded me that I am a cat woman. Did I need reminding? I have three indoor cats, one outdoor cat, I am feeding three ferals and am generally nuts about cats. I was given the present of a litter of ferals several years ago which left me with the opportunity to grow from cat hater to animal activist and admirer and shameless lover of all things furry and purring. I am dealing with cat hair flying in the air, litter crunching underfoot, a habit of looking down before taking a step so as not to trip over any tails or paws, and not turning over in bed without checking where everybody is curled up so as not to disturb a sleeping cat. And forget going to the bathroom without everyone following me in there to get some attention. One of them reaches up to me with her paw to get me to scratch her chin just because I’m not doing anything else, in her opinion.

Yes, I’m a cat woman. "Why do you ask?" I wanted to know from my friend. Well, his ex-wife had a cat which she gave to him when they got divorced and now he has to move and cannot bring the cat. He is such a sweet cat he cannot bear the thought of taking him to the shelter, what can he do? The cat is 8 months old, neutered, housebroken, indoor/outdoor, very loving and friendly, gets along with other animals, loves kids. He was rescued from a junk yard where he had been living in an abandoned car. In the motor. That’s why they called him Moto.

What could I do? Let him take this kitty to the shelter? We do not have any no-kill shelters in this county. As luck would have it, my next door neighbor was suffering from an intense mouse infestation at the time. I mean a major invasion. Mice were overrunning her house. They were in her cupboards, in her bathtub, in her living room, everywhere. They tried my house too, but once they smelled my cats, they decided my house was definitely not worth the trouble. One ventured into the kitchen under the sink and two cats raced into the open cabinet when I took the garbage pail out and that’s all it took. The word got out among the mouse community and no mouse ever went near my house again.

I told my friend to bring Moto over and we would try some mouse control and see if he could make friends with my neighbor at the same time. She would need ongoing mouse control. Unhappily, she and Moto did not hit it off and Moto was afraid of the mice. Either that, or the mice were not afraid of Moto. Come to find out Moto was afraid of my neighbor who developed a major attitude when Moto would not listen to her when she ordered him off her bed after he immediately made himself at home there. She had just lost her dog to a car accident and perhaps assumed cats would obey commands like dogs. When she eventually chased poor Moto unceremoniously out of her house, I almost cried. Now what? I was stuck with a homeless cat. And he was such a cute little cat: white with black spots and one of them right on his face, over his left eye. I called Ali with my tale of woe but he was unmoved. “He’s used to being outside” he told me, and brought over Moto’s outside house and bed and some food, and left for his new home in another county.

There was only one thing left to do. My neighbor across the way had told me a long time ago when she first moved in that she loved cats. That was when we were still on speaking terms. Something happened between us that caused a rift and speaking was no longer an option. The cause of the disagreement was no longer important. What was important was to find a home for Moto. I swallowed my pride and went across the way, knocked on her door and asked her if she wanted a cat. She looked at me for a long minute as if I had lost my mind but then she looked over my shoulder and that's when she saw Moto sitting in the middle of the driveway, looking so forlorn, she slowly said, “Sure.” And that was how Moto finally found his forever home. I could stop worrying and my neighbor and I were able to make peace because we needed to communicate about the cat. The first thing she told me was that he immediately made himself comfortable in the middle of her bed. Eventually her cat and my outdoor cat started to hang out together, and she and I became friends again as a result.

Cat people will always find common ground. Makes you wish more people were cat people, doesn’t it? Maybe there would finally be peace on the planet?

Monica Ackerman lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her cats. She's written several stories chronicling her journey from cat hater to champion of ferals and shelter animals, proving you can indeed “teach an old dog new tricks.” She is working on two books which are not about cats and a children's book that is. She can be reached at Email and feedback is welcome.