An Orange Tabby Angel

The background: My grandmother believed in reincarnation. She wanted to come back as a cat and told my grandfather that, after her death, if a stray cat ever showed up on his door step, he had better take it in.

Years and a different state later, my grandfather is living happily on a reservation in the Nevada desert. There are lots loose, if not exactly stray, animals around, but he starts to notice one cat in particular- a big tom, a long haired orange tabby, who seems new to the area. My grandfather starts putting food and water out for him during the summer months, and by winter, Ringer, as he is now known, is firmly ensconced in my grandfather’s trailer.

We called him the fluffy cat who never fluffed, but I can’t imagine how big he would have seemed if he had. He could stretch out diagonally and take up a whole bed. While still independent, he provided my grandfather with wonderful companionship.

It wasn’t long after Ringer moved in that my grandfather started to experience serious pain in his stomach. Month, what felt like a million scans, and one exploratory surgery later, my grandfather was diagnosed with intestinal cancer.

We did as much of my grandfather’s care at his home as possible. My aunt quit her job and moved to come take care of him. Ringer became less independent. You would never have known he was once a stray. He spent most of his time curled up on the hospital bed next to my grandfather.

Ringer stayed at the trailer with my aunt for a little over a year, through her pregnancy and the birth of my cousin. Finally, my aunt was getting her life back in order and decided to move out of state. Ringer came to live with us.

We moved to house where we backed up to undeveloped land. Ringer began wandering. Soon, he wasn’t coming home every night, and then not for nights at a time. My mother started asking the neighbors about him, and found out they thought he was a stray, and multiple houses had been putting food out for him.

Then there came the time when we hadn’t seen him for over a week. We did some more asking, and discovered that he had moved in with a family about a block away. The mother had just died of cancer, and the little boy needed someone to love.

We took his vet records and some food over to their house. We wanted the family to know he was healthy and cared for, but it was obvious, he wasn’t ours anymore. I’m not certain that he ever was.