Finding Momma

Trigger warning: grief, trauma and implied death.

Momma was missing. It had been many sleeps and many meals since I last sensed her. Her scent lingered in the house, on the bed and in her clothes, but it was fading. Others came into the house, loud, unfamiliar humans, who cleaned the sandbox and fed us, but they were not Momma.

“She’s gone forever,” the Other Cat said firmly one night, not in so many words, but I understood her. I also disagreed.

“Not gone forever,” I insisted. “She’ll be back. She always comes back.” And she had. Until now.

“She is. She was old. She was ill.” Both of us sighed in the dark, knowing it was true. “Wait and see. They’ll come for us with cages next. I’m not staying for that.” Other Cat turned up her nose and twitched her tail in aggravation. “I’ll bolt the next chance I get.”

She was true to her word. The next time a human came to feed us, she dashed out the door and down the street, feet flying. I stayed back and watched from the big picture window as the human chased her and called. We had not been close like littermates, but I would miss having another cat in the house. We had tolerated one another well enough. And there had always been Momma.

The sleeps passed, and I was alone. Suddenly, there was a new human in the house. She smelled of other cats, so I thought she might be acceptable. This one stayed for a while. She was not Momma, but she fed me, petted me and played with me. She tried to hug me, but I did not like that at all and wriggled away.

This new human seemed to understand. She didn’t try to hug me again, though she gave me lots of other attention. I appreciated that. She also kept petting me and talking to me. Her voice was sweet and her hands were gentle. She wasn’t Momma, but she seemed kind like Momma had been. I wondered how long she was going to stay.

I don’t mean to say she was there every day all day. She left sometimes, sometimes for most of the day, but she always came back. I was always glad to see her and met her at the door. We’d camp on the couch, and I’d sleep on her chest at night. But she always left the next morning.

Then there was another new human in the house. The newest one also smelled of other cats, as well as dogs, which I did not like. Both new humans smelled similar, like they were related. They stayed together in the house for a while and I began to think they might stay forever, until one day the first new human left and did not come back.

Now I was alone with the second new human. She smelled older than the first one, and there was something about her smells that was off, like she was ill. But she was kind, like Momma and the other human who had stayed, and I decided I liked her too. Their voices had sounded sad, but they took good care of me. I wondered if either of them would be a new Momma for me, since I had not seen my old Momma in so long.

Time passed, and I got used to the second new human. Suddenly the first one returned. I was so happy to see her that I didn’t even notice the cage. Someone grabbed me and scruffed me, stuffing me headfirst into a cramped space that reeked of other cats’ fear. I was angry and upset and let them know it, yowling my heart out. The first new human tried to speak calmingly to me, but I was having none of it. They were taking me from Momma; I just knew it.

Next came the long ride in the awful noisy box-that-moved. I yowled until I did not have the strength to continue. Exhausted, I waited in the cage, betrayed and heartbroken. I just wanted Momma. I just wanted home. Sometimes the first new human would stop the box-that-moved and offer food or water. I turned my nose up at all of it. I did not trust her now. I did not know where we were going, but I felt certain Momma was not there.

Soon we were in a strange place, full of new smells and other cats. The smells were all wrong. It was not home. When the first new human opened the cage, she left me in a small room, with fresh wet food and clean water, plus a new sandbox. I tucked my paws under me and refused to move. Even the wet food, normally a treat, didn’t rouse me.

The first new human petted me and offered me the food. She encouraged me to eat but I had no appetite. I had been taken from Momma, and nothing would be right again. I spent the night like that, curled up in that quiet room with food slowly going stale. The first new human left, but she seemed reluctant to leave me alone.

The next morning, she brought new food, which I refused to eat. I wasn’t drinking or using the box either. I was just existing. The first new human kept encouraging me to eat, trying new food, everything short of forcing it down my resistant throat. I wondered why she kept trying. She kept petting me and talking to me. Her hands were gentle still, but her voice was sad. Water fell from her eyes as she petted me, which I did not understand. But it did not matter. As kind as she had been, she was not Momma.

Then she put me in the cage and took me to the Bad Place, where they stuck me with a needle that fed cold fluid into my leg and kept me in another cage for several days. The humans there smelled of unnatural things and fear. The other animals mostly smelled of illness and more fear. I didn’t eat or drink there either.

I remembered when Momma had taken me or Other Cat to the Bad Place. Sometimes we got poked with a needle. Sometimes we had been sick. After going there, we weren’t sick anymore, but it was still unpleasant. One day the first new human, not so new now, was speaking with another human outside my cage. Her voice was louder and harsher than usual. After that, I got put in her travelling carrier and brought back to her house. I would not call it home.

That night, the first new human offered me more fresh wet food. As usual, I wouldn’t touch it. She tried again, eyes streaming with that strange water. She petted me, and stroked my chin, all things I usually liked, but I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t even purr.

Suddenly, she forced open my mouth, scooped a fingerful of the food and put it on my tongue. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t fight or even scratch. I choked it down and she did it again. A third time, and I was strong enough to get a claw into her wrist. That stopped her. She stroked me again, gently, staying far away from my teeth and claws. Eventually she left for the night.

Meanwhile, I had the taste of food in my mouth for the first time in many sleeps. The food was unfamiliar, but it was savory. Surely the first new human would not give me good food if she truly meant to hurt me. Maybe my first instincts about her had been right. I could almost forgive her the indignity of force feeding me.

I thought about Momma. I did not know how many sleeps it had been since I last saw her, but maybe Other Cat was right. Maybe she was gone forever. I knew that happened with cats. Humans lived longer, they said, but Momma had been old. Maybe I was in this strange new place because Momma couldn’t keep me anymore.

Now I thought about the first new human. She had been kind to me when I first knew her. I had thought she might be a new Momma for me before the dreadfulness. Then everything happened and I ended up shut in a room alone. I wondered if I could trust her again.

I wondered where Other Cat was tonight and whether she had food. It struck me that I, too, could be out in the wild without a home, without food. Perhaps I was lucky, even after everything. Someone wanted me. That meant I had a home if I wanted it. I could have a new Momma. It would not be the same, but it might be just as good. It might even be better.

I made a decision. Wobbling like a kitten, I stood and made my way to the food bowl. I took a few hesitant bites. By morning the food was gone. The first new human, upon seeing that, could not keep from scooping me into a big hug. I tolerated it, just this once, for my new Momma.