.......but you can't make him drink!

A while back, Russ and I decided to take a little walk at dusk. It was a lovely, cool evening, with a beautiful, rose and lavender sunset decorating the vista, as we stepped out of the house. Jake, our cat, was out by the driveway, displaying his usual disinterest in us. One thing about Jake, and cats in general, I suppose, is that they do not take kindly to anyone trying to get them to do something…..anything, really. The fact that Jake senses you want him to do something will make him start to skulk away, removing himself from capturing vicinity. Lately, when Russ and I have started out from the house for a walk, Jake starts to follow us, so we were, indeed, trying to capture him. Previous episodes of him following us had led to us grabbing him and dumping him in the car in our driveway, until we returned. Mind you, that was before the weather turned hot, so no ASPCA issues here.

In the past, due to some issues with neighbors and Animal Control, we had tried to introduce the idea of a collar and leash to Jake. At the first attempt, after Russ treated his wounds with some alcohol, the collared Jake managed to wrap the leash around a chair leg and collapse his bone structure so that he slid right out of the collar. Another time, we were working in the yard and had subdued the little lion with a harness so that he was tethered to a tree nearby. All was peaceful, until across the street, a flock of birds caught his eye. He leapt up so fast and so powerfully, the tether snapped, and he catapulted across the street. Cats, it appears, have their own minds about most everything, including acceptable social behaviors.

This particvular evening, after several attempts to capture Jake, and his persistence in following us at a safe distance, we tried a another trick that sometimes works. First we started in one direction away from our house, then doubled back in the other direction, hoping to trick him into ending up in our driveway. Instead, he didn't pause but just followed us. Next, we attempted to split up, with me starting out, Russ hovering near him, with the evil intent of capturing him. Did I mention that Jake was born in the wild? Not easily deceived. Jake skirted around Russ and kept to the bushes and close to houses nearby, keeping a somewhat equal distance between us. Russ gave up and caught up with me.

Our walking pattern takes us on a curvy, mile long trail of neighboring streets, circuiting several cul-de-sacs and a few dead ends, none of which are heavily traveled, other than by other walkers and children on bicycles, especially in the evenings. Jake kept up a brisk pace behind us, darting to bushes, under cars, beside houses, whenever we turned and glanced back at him. Just when we thought he had given up, having lost sight of him going around a curve or turning a corner, a few moments later, he would reappear, continuing his dogged pace. He had the demeanor I like to characterize as hyper-vigilant, being just a little freaked out over being in unfamiliar territory. Yet, as I said, he was doggedly determined not to give up. At several junctures, dogs behind fences barked, causing Jake to visibly cringe and cling even closer to the cover of nearby shrubs. A couple of times, he disappeared into tall brush near the woods that skirt our subdivision. Then he would appear again, trotting as fast as he could to keep a visual of us.  Occassionally, he meowed his disapproval at our pace.

Meanwhile, those folks sitting out enjoying the sunset, or some who were finishing up their outdoor chores, were appropriately amused. “Look, that cat is following them!”, and, a friendly shout of “Taking the cat for a walk?” were overheard. As we headed back in the direction of our house, we walked briskly around the last cul-de-sac and back out onto our street, fully expecting to see Jake. Darkness was settling in, so we squinted hard at the street where we had last spotted him. No Jake. There is a tall patch of grass on the corner, where some new homes are being built. I thought he would pop out any second. Using my most persuasive voice, I started to call him. No Jake.

Thinking we had perhaps missed him, I started down the street towards home, while Russ went back to the street where we had last seen him. When I arrived at our house, there was no Jake. A few minutes later, Russ called me on his cell phone to let me know that he had spotted Jake. Jake was still not willing to be picked up. As Russ tried to coax him in the direction of home, Jake trotted up to an open garage and investigated someone taking some things into the house. Then he headed in Russ’s direction, only to pause to investigate the contents of the storm sewer. Russ was ready to get home, so he called Jake and started jogging in the direction of home. Jake immediately began to follow, trotting as fast as those four, short legs could carry him. When Russ got to our driveway, he turned to look back at Jake. Jake’s response was to stop, two doors down , flop down on the sidewalk, and roll over on his back, paws in the air. He could not be coaxed to come any further, perhaps still hoping to avoid capture.

A wonderfully, amusing episode. Again last evening, with him no where in sight, we started out for a walk, only to find him waiting on the corner of the first turn we took.  He followed us past a young woman leaning on her car talking on a cell phone.  When she spotted him traveling a short distance behind us, she burst out laughing and continued chortling, as she told the person on the other end of our strange entourage.  Jake gets especially anxious having to walk in the street where the sidewalk ends.  His meowing, as he hunkers low, casts his eyes about, hugging the curb, seem to be indicating his disbelief that we would want him to travel in such dangerous territory.  Still he followed. Some friendly children and their parents tried to talk to him, which sent him diving into the tall grass.  Did I mention, Jake is not really social?

There have been a few exceptions!

As we finished up our circuit, Jake trotted the last few steps and collapsed on the driveway. Another harrowing escapde behind him.  Sometimes, he takes a while to recover.

While Russ was gone to Georgia the last time, Jake seemed bent on letting me know that he would appreciate me not leaving.  I was treated to special offerings, in the form of a chipmunk....dead, but completely intact.  A rabbit, I think....he must have been a little hungry that day. And, for the grand finale, as I opened the garage door first thing in the morning, he spotted me from across the street and came running full speed across the street.  With his mouth full. Of feathers. And he dropped his treasure at my feet, meowing all the while, circling, and wanting approval.  Even though I had issued previous edicts to him concerning birds, what could I do?  He positively needed reassurance. 

Jake has been the source of many laughable tales. And, his behaviors always seem so fraught with metaphor possibilities What do you think? Any metaphors come to mind?