Cat Watching

Liana Allers

In loving memory of my cat Chester... so quickly he came in and out of my life, but the love he brought to it is unforgettable.

I was watching him and he was watching me.

He had just come into the room and sat down, his long black tail swishing back and forth, his small left ear twitching now and then. He was far enough away that he could easily make his famous escape, but close enough to make his presence known. And he was just looking at me, as if he expected me to say something profound or perform a magic trick. I knew if I went to pick him up, he would quickly sprint away, or if I were able to catch him, his claws and my arms would soon become well acquainted. There was a good reason his nickname was Spaz.

So instead I continued to stare at him as he continued to stare at me. And as we watched each other, I began to wonder what he was thinking. Did he know how much amusement he brought to a room when he entered it? Did he know that I secretly enjoyed him sleeping on the top of my head every night? Could he possibly understand how much he made me smile when he chased a felt mouse or jumped into the air to catch a toy… (I laugh even now thinking how much he resembled Rocky the Flying Squirrel). Is it possible that he understood more than I ever could?

“What’s going on Chet?” I said, actually hoping for a response, as silly as that is, just some sort of sign that perhaps he was wondering what I was thinking as well — his health deteriorating, I spoke to him quite regularly in the last few weeks. His tongue flicked out and licked his nose, but the rest of him stayed in the same sitting position. But something had changed. As I looked in his large orange eyes, I saw something that I had never seen before. It is that moment in every animal/human relationship when the human realizes that she was underestimating the intellect of the pet. Suddenly, I didn’t need to wonder anymore.

He was thinking about life, all its complexities and mysteries. He was contemplating whether I was going to continue sitting there, or if I was going to do something truly exciting like get up off the couch and feed him. He was wondering why I always needed to be doing something, why I can’t just enjoy watching the birds on the window ledge or sleeping on a soft bed comforter in the middle of the day. He was thinking that sometime in the near future he would settle down and let himself be the cuddly cat that humans love to hold, when he finally got tired of playing his favorite game of dodge the hands. But more than this, he was thinking about how lucky he was, that he had a food bowl of his own, a window ledge to watch critters from, and a head to sleep on when the nights got cold. And although it has always been there, I saw for the first time the unconditional love of a cat, the love that is spoken in meows and purrs, in ankle rubbing and long stretches, in late night cuddling and long watching sessions.

I was watching him and he was watching me. We both knew what was going to happen, but if it’s possible to learn a lifetime in one moment, we did.

“I love you Chet,” I said. I could swear there was a smile on his face before he quickly got up and ran out of the room.