I went out to my brother’s place at the beach for our weekly ritual of Sunday supper together. We all did a good job of not broaching the fact that his cat, Chloe, whom we all loved so much, would likely never return, as she has been missing for a week. Indeed, sadness filled our hearts as the reality sunk in with a sense of grim finality, and no hope of seeing her again, hear her little muffled purr, watch her adroitly and persistent beg for treats, which she never tired of, or watch as we groomed her with her favorite brush. She was in pure feline heaven at those times.

Fiercely independent, had always been determined to live life on her own terms, despite the risks inherent in being outdoors, often night and day, roaming the elaborately designed garden and yard which bordered a tidal creek and extensive area of salt marsh. My brother could not keep her inside when she was determined to be out. No one could relax, sleep or have a moment’s peace until she was let outside. Unfortunately, this is the wrong outdoor setting for a domestic cat. For years, she used up one or another of her nine lives, somehow surviving out there with the odds against her.

When the weather was nice, there was no getting her inside, or even finding her for many hours at a time. She’d come to the door for her snacks and meals, but other than that she was living the life she loved, exploring and enjoying every square inch of the yard and gardens.

Once a few years ago, she was missing for five days, and we thought she’s was a goner. But finally she showed up, bedraggled, scared and temporarily wise to, and respectful of, the dangers of the marsh, where she had evidently ventured. For weeks she wouldn’t go out of the house. Then the fear left her and she resumed her nocturnal adventures.

This time, however, a neighbor said she had spotted a bobcat on her security camera in her back porch one night. We knew then it was likely Chloe had encountered this creature, and that was the end of it.

I miss her so much already. It wiil be awhile before I am accustomed to the fact that Chloe is gone. A dear little friend. I kept thinking I would spot her in the yard yesterday afternoon. But there was only silence and a gentle wind blowing aver the marsh. It was a feeling of emptiness. A void. She hasn’t been seen in any of her usual hiding places.

Mischievous and spunky, Chloe was dear to the whole extended family. I will miss seeing her snuggled up in some cozy nook when she was in one of her stay-at-home moods. Often when she was inside, she would hide away in some newly favorite spot, such as the time we all laughed when we heard a paper bag rustling only to discover Chloe nestled inside napping. The last favorite place was in the bathroom of all places, atop some clean towels. She had a proclivity for nestling atop and napping on clean clothes on the bed, or in some other spot, and would repeatedly return when we took her off the freshly laundered clothes and told her pointlessly not to do that. Dirty clothes would not do for this slightly spoiled cat.

Never was she more adorable than when we found her in one of her secret napping spots. Sweet and purring. But the next day she could become aggravated with us, and swat at us or try to nip us with a bite that could be more than just a playful or warning nip. And she’d never tolerate being picked and snuggled.

But then, she’d get her treats and bound out of the house once again, to explore and romp and hunt for voles or mice, and enjoy each day to the max— on her terms, of course.

Chloe

https://www.flickr.com/gp/camas/psM20uN703