Once upon a time there were two brothers who lived with us humans. Here is how they came to us. We had heard that a friend’s friend, Wendy, had 17 cats and kittens and needed to find good homes for some of them. I went to visit Wendy, whose last name appropriately was Katz, at her house in Bloomfield. Wendy opened the door and magically, furry bodies and swishy tails popped out from every corner of the living room. My goodness! Irresistible cuteness everywhere! I found two kittens—one a gray and white one with white socks, almost a tuxedo cat, and the other, an orange tabby. The tuxedo cat had huge ears and we named him Gizmo after a favorite character in a Steven Spielberg movie. His brother became Milo, after the cat movie star!
Although they were brothers, their dispositions were totally opposite. Gizmo was fat and calm whereas Milo was thin and nervous. Should a stranger come through our front door, in a flash Milo would scurry away and hide under the bed, while Gizmo would calmly eye what was going on and remain patient. Nothing seemed quite worth fussing over or bothering to get up from a comfortable position, whereas Milo would stay hidden until the coast was clear.
When the cats were about five years old, and our last child was going off to college, we decided to downsize. The empty nest was an inevitable certainty, but perhaps, a smaller nest would seem a little less empty. It was a summer of frantic packing and cleaning, letting go of decades of clutter. Finally, the day of moving arrived.
It was a warm September day. Slowly the upstairs boxes and furniture moved down into the van. Bedrooms, kitchen, and living room emptied out quickly. The movers proceeded to go downstairs into the basement, where the cats were hiding behind boxes. Their whole comfortable world had been turned upside down. The movers carried boxes upon boxes out to the van. When we came back to get the cats, only Gizmo was waiting patiently. Where was Milo? We searched around the house, calling and calling for him: he was nowhere to be found. Then we discovered that the basement window was open. One of the movers had opened it to get some cool, fresh air. Our hearts sank. We immediately ran outside to look for Milo in the darkness. How would he survive? He had always been an indoor cat. Would a car run over him? If he got into a fight with other cats, how could he defend himself without his claws? We were sick with anxiety and dread knowing that our Milo was out there somewhere defenseless and completely ignorant of the outside world!
In the weeks that followed, we would return to our old home and search for him. Although the food dish we set out for him was empty, we could not be sure it was Milo who was eating it and not other cats. There were times when I felt so sad, as if our child had run away and was lost forever. My next-door neighbor, who herself was afraid of cats and always closed the inside curtains facing the back yard to avoid seeing cats, ironically, would reassure me that cats were very clever. They would not stray too far from their original home. One day, she reported seeing Milo! Thank goodness! He was not dead after all, but alive. We were so overjoyed, and I started coming back at night after work, bringing food and hoping to see him. One time, I did see him as he came out of the bushes to eat. “Milo, Milo,” I called to him, but he immediately sped off into the dark. How dejected I was! That darn cat! How could he have done such a thing to us after we had raised him and cared for him all these years! Ungrateful cat!
Fortunately, our neighbor, Neil, across the street, thought of a better cat trap. We put food in a dish all the way back inside the garage and kept the door slightly open. Our neighbor said he would keep a lookout for Milo and as soon as he saw him going into the garage, he would close the garage with the remote control. It was indeed an excellent plan, but would it work??
We got a phone call the following week from our neighbor. He said Milo was trapped inside the garage and would we please come and get him? I enlisted the help of a friend and together we went back to our old house, went inside through the kitchen, and opened the inside door to the garage. There in the corner, sitting on a shelf, was an orange cat. But, it was not Milo! It was a pure dark marmalade orange-colored fluffy cat that was quite fat. My friend said to the cat, “We don’t want you! You’re not Milo and you’re ugly!” There was nothing to do except to let this cat go find its own home. What a disappointment!
It was now already six weeks since the rascal had escaped. I was beginning to lose hope, thinking Milo would be forever running away from us. Then, just on a Sunday afternoon after I had come back from church, I received that miraculous phone call from Neil. “I’ve got Milo,” he said excitedly. We rushed over and peeked inside the garage. There was the true Milo, sitting quietly, and not moving an inch. We picked him up gently and put him in the cat carrier; Milo never even resisted.
When we brought him to our new home, his brother Gizmo arched his back and hissed at him! What a surprising behavior! It was as if Gizmo was punishing him for having run away! Maybe, Gizmo had quite gotten used to being the good, stay-at-home alpha cat and did not want any other cat, even his brother, trying to depose him! We took Milo to the vet who said Milo was thinner, had fleas, but was otherwise healthy. After a flea bath and shots, Milo settled down. Slowly, he became less nervous and calmed down sufficiently for us to hold him in our laps. He genuinely appeared glad to be back home, or maybe it was we who were projecting our own sense of relief on him.
Reflecting on this tale, I think of Milo as the “prodigal cat.” He had everything, but still ran away. When we called him, he did not come to us, and we experienced all the hurt and pain of a parent who is rejected by his child. Yet, when he came back home, he seemed to know that this was where he belonged and did not try to escape again.
God calls to us, loves us even when we don’t recognize or acknowledge Him, and will not let go of us. He continues to search us out, knowing that being with Him will give us complete safety, reassurance, protection, and love. In our hearts, we know that we belong to Him, but we still want to live according to our own self-will. Praise God that He never gives up on us or lets us go completely astray! And Praise Him even more that he protects even cats and shows His love for us through them!
Post-script: Gizmo gradually stopped hissing at Milo, which I interpreted to mean that they became reconciled and accepted each other once more. They both lived quite long comfortable lives: Gizmo, to age 16 ½ and Milo, to age 18. Milo in his old age lost his youthful anxiety and became quite mellow. A good model to follow as I grow older!
© 2022 by Emy Kamihara