The Seasonal Cat

For 8 months out of the year, I'm only on feeding terms with one of my cats. Magic is more than happy to let me scratch his back for a few seconds in return for his breakfast and supper, but getting him to spend any more time with me during the warmer months is almost impossible. He hangs out under the porch and sleeps in the bushes under the dining room window. He takes naps on the seat of one of the porch chairs and goes off alone on frequent hunting trips, returning occasionally with a mouse or swallow.

The other two house-dwelling cats have an uneasy truce with him. There is much hissing and growling through the office window whenever Callie or Orion spots Magic lounging on the deck or in his chair. When the cats do have one of their infrequent meet-ups outside, they spit and swipe at one another, though thankfully there hasn't been any out-and-out combat.

Magic is, of course, neutered. And as the house sits about 1/4 of a mile off the quiet country road I'm not worried about him getting anywhere near traffic. Besides, he's pretty much spooked by anything that moves, so I trust him not to try to make friends with hungry coyotes. It's not that he can't come in -- I have two doggie doors, one of which is open 24/7. No, he just prefers to keep to himself and live up to the stereotype of the totally aloof cat for those 8 long months.

Once the temperature starts dipping below freezing, though, Summer Magic disappears and Winter Magic arrives to take his place. Winter Magic is a house cat who can't be enticed outside even on mild winter days. Winter Magic does his best to avoid Callie and Orion the first week or so after he moves in, during which time there is much hissing and spitting and swipe-taking that happens neither outside nor through the window. While they never fully accept one another, Callie and Orion eventually and grudgingly come to tolerate the interloper.

For his part, Winter Magic naps in one of the spare rooms upstairs and takes his meals downstairs in the dining room. He meows pathetically in the kitchen for me to hurry up while I'm preparing his royal feasts and demands I lift him up to the window sill where he can gnosh without being challenged by the other cats.

Winter Magic even plays. His favorite game is dunking the plastic ring off a milk jug into the water bowl, retrieving it out of the water, then starting all over. Most wonderfully, Winter Magic at night snuggles up in bed and snoozes away with the rest of us, purring in my arms.

Who is this Winter Cat and where does he come from? Selfishly, I wish he would stay and not, like Frosty, come spring simply melt away.

Do any of you have a seasonal friend?

Ghost Kitty

This post was originally published October 31,  2010.

What better day than Halloween to introduce you to a black cat named Magic?

About two-and-a-half years ago, something mysterious took up residence under my large, wraparound porch. A there-but-not-there presence I couldn't quite see. I did catch a few phantom glimpses, though: a streak of black out of the corner of my eye, a blur of movement in the dark. Occasionally, I heard a soft, eerie mew. Bowls of food I left as offerings were emptied in the night. Once, I saw a possum scavanging the bowl in the wee hours of the morning -- but was it eating the main course or leftovers?

I took to referring to the presence as my ghost kitty. After about a month of playing hide-and-seek with my spectral guest, I began sitting on the porch steps just after dark, talking gently to the unseen spirit, and rattling the food bowl, which when it's filled with a mix of dry and wet food doesn't produce near the kind of rattle you were probably imagining.

Nevertheless, after a couple of weeks of patient coaxing, a small and timid kitten finally slunk out from under the porch. It took another couple of weeks before the kitten didn't dart off the moment I moved and another couple of weeks before he allowed me to touch him.

I didn't press him; I allowed him to come to me when he was comfortable about it. Another couple of weeks and I could pick him up and hold him while he purred for a few seconds before struggling to get down. I tossed around names such as Ghost and Spirit and Shadow for him and finally landed on Magic.

Then it was time to introduce him to the safety of the house. Gray Kitty had no doubt already made his acquaintance under the porch and was his usual accommodating self when Magic moved indoors. He promptly became Magic's surrogate mom, pouncing on the kitten and holding him down while he licked the kitten clean. They were good buddies. And when winter came, they snuggled on the warm bed with me and the dogs.

Magic, though, never lost his shy nature. No one else has ever seen more of him than a glimpse of his freakishly long tail disappearing under the porch or up the stairs. (These pictures, taken this morning, are the first proof to others that he does, indeed, exist.) And while he'll hiss and threaten when another cat bullies him, he tends to be the one to back down even though he's grown into quite a large boy.

Last fall, two other cats joined our household -- cats who took an instant dislike to Magic. During the winter, he hung out in one room as far away from them as possible where Gray Kitty kept him company. When his best bud went missing in the spring, Magic moved outdoors, back under the porch, and has only come in a couple of times -- each at my insistence -- since.

Nowadays, he comes running for breakfast and supper when I call. He'll sit in my lap for long minutes at a time and purr. But he's still afraid of every shadow and every sudden movement. As temperatures dip I'm hoping to be able to entice him back in for the winter. The other two cats will no doubt put up a grand fuss, but they'll just have to get over it. Magic was haunting this house -- and my heart -- long before they ever showed up.

H A P P Y   H A L L O W E E N !