by Deborah from Amityville
“It’s not clear as to the exact day or date that I found my way to George’s back porch. I knew that he always cooked because the exhaust fan blew the aromas from his kitchen in the direction across the road where I had lived. I believe my original master is deceased and I was left to fend for myself after being evicted by the superintendent of the building complex that I once calledhome. I believed that George would be kind enough to feed me and do me no harm. George has seen to it that I get two meals a day. He didn’t realize at first that I required as much to eat as I do until my constant cries of meows alarmed him of the fact that I might still be hungry. George’s friend, Deborah, has given me a new name. Although I don’t remember what I was called in the past, I am now called Pusé. I never leave George’s yard because I am, and have always been, kind of a homebody, an indoor cat. Occasionally some of the neighborhood cats drop by and I try to leave food for them, but George and Deborah both discourage it in order to prevent having a yard full of cats.
I must admit that I’m not especially warm to my new masters. I have trust issues, maybe because I feel I was abandoned. George doesn’t talk to me at all, but Deborah does annoy the hell out of me with her constant meowing at me. If I’m hungry, I give her the time of day and meow back at her. She’ll then feed me and give me fresh water. Once in awhile she’ll try to feed me from her hand. I think she’s trying to socialize me, but I’m not going for it. There are many times when I do get physically close enough to her when I’m really hungry and she’s putting food in my bowl. One day she tried to stroke the top of my head, but I retracted immediately. You see, I’m kind of what you call a ‘fraidy cat. I’m not trusting of humans. I’m also not really too fond of other felines because they have tried to take advantage of my aging feline years, my docile temperament, and lack of street savvy. At this stage in my life, I just want to take it easy basking in the sun in one of my favorite spots in George’s yard. I’m thankful that my abundantly long hair inherent of my northern heritage from the state of Maine and the carpeted lined two-story chalet that George built for me are a protector and provider of warmth for me. I’ve managed to survive comfortably well this past winter.
Now that spring has sprung, my dark hair is shedding and I know that I’m making a mess on George’s porch. I heard him complaining about my hair, but I can’t help it. It’s getting matted and a little too warm for this much hair on me. I also hear him tell his friends when I’m sitting next to the wall of his back door that I’m listening to everything that goes on in the house; sometimes I am. I even look inside the screen door when it’s open to see what I can see – -probably just the curiosity of my being a cat. There has been a new addition on the porch lately. It looks like a wire box with an opening. George is now putting my food in the box and it smells like fresh fish, and boy am I starving! He must have forgotten to feed me last night. Oh well, I have to go in the box and eat now. I’ll talk to you later.”
(NOTE: Pusé will be captured in the wire box (a cage) and taken to a vet for a check up to determine its sex, whether he/she is declawed, neutered/spaded, his/ her age, and yes, for much needed grooming and will be returned to George’s porch for more attempts to be socialized and to live out his/her life.)