Pets

When my 16 year old Kishu inu, Amos, had a stroke he could no longer walk on roads. All road traffic frightened him. Though our "garden" is small it is big, for Japan.

So, every evening, Amos and I would walk several times around and through the garden. A small, white cat watched us. She (as we later discovered) would crouch under bushes, behind trees, and in flower beds. She would race to the next corner and wait for us to arrive.

Amos loved all other animals, especially cats. He'd grown up with two house cats. He was excitedly happy when she ran around, he looked expectantly for her.

Gradually she chose to stay at our house. Though she was never fully tame she was friendly, petable, and happy to see us, especially Amos. We fed her, kept her water dish full, and lined a house on our patio with blankets in the winter.

Often, when we opened the patio door she would take a few steps into the house, sit down and look interested, Then she would leave. There was a level of feralness in her, we named her Madam Mao, that wouldn't allow her to be happy inside.

We tried enticing her, we tried familiarizing her, we tried comforting her and, a little, she accepted it. But then she wanted to get out again.

Within a year Amos died and Madam Mao (with no gang of four) had to watch as I walked Amos' three children down the drive, on the road and onward (we'd walk for 45 or so minutes), she was waiting for us when we came back.

She sadly left us a few years later, quite possibly poisoned by a stupid neighbor. He pumped weed killer on the smallest patch of weeds or grass constantly and she had a habit of chewing on grass, as many cats do.

Goodnight, Madam Mao.