My Cat Came Back

He looked like Sylvester the cartoon cat; all black with a white underbelly and white declawed paws.

Pookie had been passed around quite a bit and had lived with several owners. First, he was given to my mother by a couple in Queens, NY, who simply didn’t want him anymore. When I finally got Pookie, it was after my own mom had become completely fed up. She couldn’t get him to stop peeing on the carpet (one spot in particular), and after years of exasperation it was either I take Pookie, or he was going to the pound. By this time, the feline was already 15 years old.

The Queens cat was taken upstate to the college town of New Paltz, NY. Pookie’s odyssey began when I too was forced to pass him on to someone else. I was moving to a new place and couldn’t bring him along, since there was a "no pets allowed" rule. So I gave him to my friend Ned (whose name I've changed for this story), an Oscar Madison type, a cantankerous yet lovable slob who would give you the shirt off his back.

I had imagined Pookie would enjoy the apartment since there would be things on the floor to investigate and paper instead of carpet to pee on. Ned lived in a ground floor apartment on a house near the Wallkill River.

Ned gladly took Pookie in and kept him for almost two years. They got along just fine as the cat provided good company. Alas, Ned himself was soon on the move. It was during this period of transition from one place to another that Pookie was lost.

I was telephoned about the matter by my friend and I was none too happy to hear the news.