A Shadow Xmas
December 20, 2004 | 12:00am
At about this time last year, as most households were dusting off their carols and holiday lights, the cat Shadow was a fixture in our own artificial Christmas tree. Shadow found comfort in the fake greenery, among the decorations and assorted knickknacks and blinking lights that gave good cheer. It could be reasonable to say that the cat became part of the Christmas trappings, surveying the gifts below.
No such Shadow this year. He finally broke free into the wild on the last day of August, after a few escapades to consort with his fellow cats in the apartment grounds. Better that than a sheltered life and possible spaying, he must have thought.
He hasn’t totally disappeared, though. Late at night or early in the morning, without the hubbub of regular beings providing their daily distractions and anxieties, he surfaces in the garden and recognizes the call of his name, even occasionally answering back, "meow!’
The conversation then goes something like this: "Shadow!" "Meow!" "Shadow!" "Meow!" "Shadow!" "Meow!"
Of course we miss the damn cat, even if he practically stunk up the whole house. He still has three cans of sardines waiting, and half a bag of cereal. His litter is still in the backroom unused. Once there were a few droppings of cat pooh left on the doormat – must have been him wanting to reclaim a territory or as a reminder that he could come back anytime in the dead of night. Another time the mysterious shit was a couple of feet away from the door. But it wasn’t really so mysterious after all.
My most recent sighting of Shadow was at the height of typhoon Yoyong. He crossed my path just as I was a few meters away from home. For a while we exchanged the predictable conversation amid the howling wind and the intermittent rain. His face had grown smaller and he was generally thinner, as can be expected of anyone who has gone back to the wild, but he looked sharp and still quick-footed. It didn’t take long for him to amble on to another passageway behind the bushes, still within the compound, no doubt looking for a warm and dry place, shelter from the storm.
I told my 12-year-old son, who is Shadow’s real owner, that sometimes these things happen, cats can disappear for weeks, even months on end. But more often than not they return, led back by their sense of smell to a familiar place or vibe, people who are not exactly strangers.
Before this latest extended furlough, Shadow had been retrieved for a few weeks when one morning before dawn we heard him meowing in the courtyard. It was a tag-team relay with the boy, getting his cat back to the apartment unit.
The cat looked like he lacked sleep and needed a bath badly, both of which he promptly got. Soon though, after fattening up and dozing for hours at a time, he got restless again and always wanted out.
And one school day he saw his big break when the apartment unit door was inadvertently left open, and the grownups were attending to some mundane chores or duties. The cat had apparently slipped past us and made his way down the flight of stairs.
Nights later he’d be holding fort near the apartment building’s entrance, or gazing at the distance and shifting reflections in the courtyard just before sunrise.
Early in December his vet called up to inquire about him since he was due for his yearly anti-rabies booster shot. The vet sounded concerned, according to the missus who received the call.
The Shadow cat has now been more than three months in the wild of the apartments off Boni Ave. in Mandaluyong City. We can’t argue with a cat’s choice of freedom; he has his own nine lives to live. Maybe a few more of those lives will be spent closer to the old homestead.
Whenever we run into another cat in the neighborhood, we tell it to send our regards to Shadow. The two kids, who are fast becoming no longer kids, wonder why we bother and do cats know how to relay messages. We tell them never to underestimate a cat, because they are really all barkada, and they have their own language and have a better chance of running into each other than us them.
We’re not yet throwing out the sardines and cereal, or even the sandbox in the utility area where Shadow did his ablutions. Not that we’re keeping our hopes high that the cat will come back. If he does, fine; if he doesn’t, that’s okay too. (Sounds like Kobe referring to the Mailman, but at least we know Shadow will never make a pass at the wife).
But once the Christmas lights are up and we hear some meowing in the courtyard, then we’ll look out the window to the view below, just as Shadow did when he was still with us, but now he’s closer to the shrubs and natural greenery than he ever was.
No such Shadow this year. He finally broke free into the wild on the last day of August, after a few escapades to consort with his fellow cats in the apartment grounds. Better that than a sheltered life and possible spaying, he must have thought.
He hasn’t totally disappeared, though. Late at night or early in the morning, without the hubbub of regular beings providing their daily distractions and anxieties, he surfaces in the garden and recognizes the call of his name, even occasionally answering back, "meow!’
The conversation then goes something like this: "Shadow!" "Meow!" "Shadow!" "Meow!" "Shadow!" "Meow!"
Of course we miss the damn cat, even if he practically stunk up the whole house. He still has three cans of sardines waiting, and half a bag of cereal. His litter is still in the backroom unused. Once there were a few droppings of cat pooh left on the doormat – must have been him wanting to reclaim a territory or as a reminder that he could come back anytime in the dead of night. Another time the mysterious shit was a couple of feet away from the door. But it wasn’t really so mysterious after all.
My most recent sighting of Shadow was at the height of typhoon Yoyong. He crossed my path just as I was a few meters away from home. For a while we exchanged the predictable conversation amid the howling wind and the intermittent rain. His face had grown smaller and he was generally thinner, as can be expected of anyone who has gone back to the wild, but he looked sharp and still quick-footed. It didn’t take long for him to amble on to another passageway behind the bushes, still within the compound, no doubt looking for a warm and dry place, shelter from the storm.
I told my 12-year-old son, who is Shadow’s real owner, that sometimes these things happen, cats can disappear for weeks, even months on end. But more often than not they return, led back by their sense of smell to a familiar place or vibe, people who are not exactly strangers.
Before this latest extended furlough, Shadow had been retrieved for a few weeks when one morning before dawn we heard him meowing in the courtyard. It was a tag-team relay with the boy, getting his cat back to the apartment unit.
The cat looked like he lacked sleep and needed a bath badly, both of which he promptly got. Soon though, after fattening up and dozing for hours at a time, he got restless again and always wanted out.
And one school day he saw his big break when the apartment unit door was inadvertently left open, and the grownups were attending to some mundane chores or duties. The cat had apparently slipped past us and made his way down the flight of stairs.
Nights later he’d be holding fort near the apartment building’s entrance, or gazing at the distance and shifting reflections in the courtyard just before sunrise.
Early in December his vet called up to inquire about him since he was due for his yearly anti-rabies booster shot. The vet sounded concerned, according to the missus who received the call.
The Shadow cat has now been more than three months in the wild of the apartments off Boni Ave. in Mandaluyong City. We can’t argue with a cat’s choice of freedom; he has his own nine lives to live. Maybe a few more of those lives will be spent closer to the old homestead.
Whenever we run into another cat in the neighborhood, we tell it to send our regards to Shadow. The two kids, who are fast becoming no longer kids, wonder why we bother and do cats know how to relay messages. We tell them never to underestimate a cat, because they are really all barkada, and they have their own language and have a better chance of running into each other than us them.
We’re not yet throwing out the sardines and cereal, or even the sandbox in the utility area where Shadow did his ablutions. Not that we’re keeping our hopes high that the cat will come back. If he does, fine; if he doesn’t, that’s okay too. (Sounds like Kobe referring to the Mailman, but at least we know Shadow will never make a pass at the wife).
But once the Christmas lights are up and we hear some meowing in the courtyard, then we’ll look out the window to the view below, just as Shadow did when he was still with us, but now he’s closer to the shrubs and natural greenery than he ever was.
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