The Best Cat I Never Had

Eulogy for Porch Cat

“Have you seen the little grey cat I take care of?” I texted my neighbor in February. He responded, “The last time I saw her was maybe two weeks ago. She ran out from under my truck. She likes to hang out under it until she hears me start to walk up to it. We’ll keep an eye out for her and let you know if we see her.”

I don’t remember exactly when Porch Cat started showing up, but I remember when I started seeing her on a regular basis. In 2017, I moved from an upstairs home office to a downstairs office. I would see her cross the driveway on her way to our front porch where she liked to stretch out and lounge in the sun. Thus the name.

She was a gorgeous cat: almost completely gray, except for a white patch on her chest. Even her nose and toe beans were grey. She had green eyes and a long grey tail. She was a small girl. I imagine she weighed about six pounds.

I started putting water out for her. She would stop to drink the water and look in at me. My office is a sunroom with a wall of French doors that face the driveway. Sometimes she would walk up to the glass and meow at me.

As is so often the case, a second stray cat started showing up. He was a big orange tomcat. I asked a friend for advice and she said her company partners with this community pet clinic who will help you trap and release the cats at no charge. So I called and made an appointment.

I trapped Porch Cat first and drove her to the clinic. The next day I trapped the orange cat and drove him to the clinic. When I got there, Porch Cat was hanging out in the cat trailer. I learned that this was not her first rodeo. She was already in their system and already spayed. So she got updated shots and a free stay at the cat hotel while the orange cat got neutered. Now I just had to drive them home and release them back into my yard.

The volunteers warned me that I would probably never see the cats again, especially the tomcat. They applauded me for bringing the cats in and assured me that I was doing the right thing. So I released the cats and the tomcat immediately ran into the woods and never came back. Porch Cat also took off, but a few hours later was in our front yard laying under a bush.¹

The community center told me to start feeding her because she was probably living off trash and street food. The problem was she kept her own schedule. I’d put food out, but by the time she came by it would be covered with ants and she wouldn’t eat it. I did some research and found a food and water bowl with a little moat that the ants couldn’t climb. This worked even though she still refused to adhere to a schedule. I would wait until I saw her and then run out with food.

John and I joked that she only knew one language and that language was hissing. Yes, she did want the food. No, she did not want the fellowship. When I’d go out to feed her, she’d back up and hiss, waiting until I was gone before she’d run up and eat the food. A few years passed like this, then we rolled into 2020.

Some people made sourdough. Some people renovated their house. I decided to make this cat like me. One of my friends gave me an outdoor cat house she was no longer using, so I put that on our front porch. Then I bought a more permanent food and water bowl and put that on the front porch. She was interested.

I started feeding her on a schedule and she learned what time I put food out. As soon as I’d wake up and open the curtains, I’d see her out there on the front porch waiting on her food. She’d still back up and hiss though. My ultimate quest was to pet her. So the mission continued.

Sometimes when I was out there with her I’d faux-cry, “Just let me love you!” My plea was met with a hiss.

I found a secret weapon: churus. If you don’t know what these are, they’re tubes of slime that cats lose their minds over. It’s gogurt for cats. I would go out to the front porch and kneel down with the open churu and she would come up to me and eat the churu. I couldn’t pet her (yet) but I was earning her trust. I started sitting down with the churu and putting a little on my hand for her to lick off. This worked and I could pet her a little bit while she was slurping on scallop slime.

Now when I’d go out to feed her, she would come up to the bowl and let me pet her while she ate. For a cat who had lived her whole life outside, she was surprisingly soft and clean. I’d go out there sometimes and just sit with her. I’d sing little songs I made up with her name and she’d purr and make little biscuits, not on me, but beside me, which was still sweet. She loved it when I’d coo and sing-song her name. Her name was Porch Cat, but I called her Porchy and Porcina.

It was still early pandemic, so I’d take walks around my neighborhood to get out of the house. A few times I saw her in other people’s yards and I’d call to her and she’d come running. Then she’d take off again and be on the front porch by the time I got home.

She also really started to love our backyard. I spent a lot of time back there during the pandemic trying to grow things and reading on the back porch. She would hop down from wherever she’d been hiding and lay down in front of my feet.

She loved the sound of her own voice. I’d be inside the house, hear her meowing and have to figure out which door she was at. I like to sit and write at the dining room table, which is right in front of a glass door into the backyard. I’d hear her little meow, look up and she would be sitting there watching me write.

She started sitting on top of her cat house. We called it gargoyling. She’d meow at us from the front porch and if we didn’t respond, she would hop up on the ledge of our big picture window and meow at us through the glass. She probably wanted food or treats, but I think it was her way of being part of our family. “I’m out here,” I imagine her saying.

Her primary bond was with me because I’m the one who fed her, but she learned how to love John in her own way. She never let him pet her, but she liked it when he went out to feed her and would sing to her. John sits in our garage at night and smokes and he said she would come by late at night and either meow at him in passing or lay down in front of where he was sitting. More than once, she came into the garage and looked around.

She wasn’t ours, but she was as much a part of our family as our two indoor cats are.

There’s so much more I want to say: how when we went out of town we paid the cat sitters extra to feed Porch Cat and change her water; how whenever anyone asked me how many cats I had I’d say two and a half; how one time she hurt her tail and I took a picture of it and then took the picture to my vet; how hard I tried to find her after she disappeared; how I’d hear her meow and rush outside with tears in my eyes, only to realize she was still gone; how even now, three months later, I still open the curtains every morning and hope she’s out there.

Someone told me once that cats know how to find helpers. As much as some folks like to denigrate stray cats, it’s not the cat’s fault that it was born outside. If only we could all pick our parents and the circumstance of where, and how, we enter this world. If only we could choose the things we’re forced to survive.

Porch Cat lived in my neighborhood for at least a year or two before she found me. I think she knew I was a helper, even though I didn’t know it about myself yet. She was my first cat, and my first lesson on how to love someone who may have to learn their own way of loving you back.

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A note on comments.

I’ve been carrying this grief quietly since February, so it will feel nice to finally be able to receive support. What will not feel supportive is questions about my choices or well-intentioned but misguided offers of hope that she might come back. Thank you in advance for respecting this request.

If you’d like to make a donation to Pet Community Center, they do great (often unpaid) work. Since 2011, they have spayed/neutered over 22,000 community cats in and around Nashville.

1. I saved the videos of trapping and releasing the cats to a highlight on my Instagram profile called “Porch Cat.” If you’d like, you can see that here (highlights may only show up on the mobile app).