The years I worked in Washington DC, I lived in the very green neighborhood of Maryland. Away from family and friends, I thought I should buy my eight and eleven years old kids a pet. I love them too. A thorough review of the newspapers - Internet was at its dawn - took me to a blue point cat breeder. Abundant, lank, long, very white hair surrounding big blue eyes. Two months old, he was spectacular. I named him Elvis. And I took him home ignoring that I was just about to begin a quite unexpected adventure.
The first encounter with the destiny we would have to face happened at the vet where a sensible and keen doctor lifts him, checks him up and simply tells me Well, as it happens, Elvis is a she. The lady that sold him had assured me that it was a male, I had already baptized him and he already answered to his name. As it seemed unnecessary to explain to a cat the lack of consistency between sex and name, she kept his name. Precisely at the moment that the children fell in love with him rains came. An unattended open door let him out. He disappeared. We looked for him two entire days. On the third day the door bell rings.
It is my British neighbor who says: I believe your cat is in my backyard, but I would suggest you don’t bring the children. In fact, Elvis had been attacked by one, may be many, raccoons and he was not just dead but horribly dead. I said nothing and talked the children into going back to school while Elvis returned. After taking them to school I prepared myself to rush and find a new Elvis to greet them when they came back home. On my way out, I realized that the dead cat was still in a a bag in the garage and, of course, I could not leave him there.
At first, I thought I had found a solution with the very efficient animal shelter office but they would collect him only if sick, when dead I had to burry him. My neighbor lent me a shovel. An encounter with the unknown. I was about to begin digging a four feet deep hole in my back yard, soon enough to have time to go and buy a new cat, with a tool I had never used before. Two hours later, my kidneys and me had done it. Next, I found a new blue point on the phone, picked him up and there he was sitting calmly, his almond eyes fixed in the children when they arrived.
One year later my kids went to live for a while with their father. Elvis and I stayed. Good company. Calm, independent, affectionate, beautiful, self-sufficient, he understood my work routines and easily adapted. Elvis, the king. I had already explained to him that he would be an indoors cat. Having children at home I would have to see closely to his hygiene, so he would have to limit his wandering to the garden and only when going out with me. Elvis registered the fence and accepted his boundaries. An afternoon near sunset, as I closed the day I noticed he wasn’t around. He did not answer either. Again, my patient neighbor lent me a flashlight that lit the way as I entered the dark back yard. Another encounter with the unknown: There I was, standing at night in the middle of the woods, holding a flashlight, shouting “Elvis, Elvis, where are you?”. I think about it now but at that moment I did not pray that nobody see me.
Suddenly, from far far away an almost inaudible Meeiauu reached my ear. I used rigorous geometry to the search in every corner of the garden but I could not get close to the sound. He called from very far. In complete silence I managed to isolate the sound until I was certain: it came from above. The flashlight leading the way scanned the tree tops until up there, very up there, it bounced in Elvis terrorized eyes. He was high, really far, in a stern branchless huge trunk that ended in a lush vegetation where Elvis grabbed with all his four legs. He had climbed without thinking in the way down. My first impulse - dissuade him to try - vanished soon. Nobody mentally sane would risk to climb down a perpendicular angle from that height. Not even a cat.
I knew nobody in the neighborhood, so I appealed again to my neighbor kindness and asked him for an idea. He looked at me for a few seconds and said: Mrs Davila, may I ask you a question? Of course said I. Have you ever seen a death cat in a tree? Logic was clear but I just could not go to sleep in the hope that he would find a way to come down. The firemen seemed a good solution - long ladders - but though I reminded them that they do it in every film, in fact, it happens only in films. Firemen do not rescue cats. I tried the police then, they suggested I’d try an animal shelter. Midnight. At the animal shelter an answering machine kept the waiting until morning. I explained to Elvis the situation - given his position, so to the entire neighborhood - and set myself to reading until seven in the morning, time when I went out to measure the situation and give him strength.
As I stood beneath the most extraordinary scene was before my eyes. The night before birds had gone to sleep like any other night. Morning light revealed to them Gotzilla, my dear Elvis, sitting close to their nests. They were horrified but not as much as Elvis. By organized turns, birds of all sizes would fly over him to hit him. They wanted him out. Getting him down was a must.
My neighbor had me again at his door asking for a ladder. Yes, he could not believe it but he handled it. I leaned it to the house roof and did exactly what Elvis had done: I climbed without thinking in the way back. When I got the top of the house, I realized I was midway between the sky and the floor. The aerial attack over Elvis continued. He needed help and soon. Unable to take a step I lied down on my back facing the sky, dragged myself to the border until I got hold of the ladder and managed to come down.
The animal shelter finally at the phone, does not rescue cats either but they gave me the phone number and name of an expert in taking cats down from trees... Certain that Elvis’ situation was desperate, situation that would be superseded only by the same situation but in a midday burning august, I set myself to find him. I dialed and... an answering machine!
First message - 8:00 am : Hello, my name is Sylvia. My cat climbed a tree from where he cannot climb down. The animal shelter thinks that you can give me a hand. I would very much appreciate you calling me back. Second message - 9:00 am: Hello, this is Sylvia again, I just would like to stress the point that he has been in a very difficult situation all night, that he is a long hair cat, and that in a few hours summer sun will be at its highest. Thank you for calling me soon. Third message - 10:00 am: Listen, if you cannot give me the service I would appreciate you saying soooo, soooo that I can look for another solution. Call me, pleeease. Fourth message- 11: 00 am. : Where the hell are youuu????.
Finally, before Elvis got fried or succumb to the birds aerial attack, a deep calm voice informed me on the phone that he was on his way. With a belt like those used by the telephone company guys, a man certain of his skills climbed the trunk not before warning me sometimes when I get up there they get scared and jump... That climbing took ages. On the contrary, like in cartoons Elvis literally embraced him. It took me more that an afternoon to calm him and cost me two hundred and fifty dollars. As it often happens, sharing misfortunes also tightens bonds.
Elvis and I were happy again until it came for me the time to leave. I prepared myself to take him with me in the long journey but while arranging his trip I found that he would be kept four hours in platform , summer again, in Miami! I could not do that to Elvis. A new family was needed. I found one, set an appointment, explained to Elvis the situation and went to leave him in his new home, this time praying that I would be able to leave him in a situation that did not brake me. A middle age, kind, easy going couple opened the door. Elvis and I held tight to each other breathless... until I saw the child. Elvis was looking at him too. The sweet face, untidy hair, clear transparent eyes of an eight years old boy greeted him. Without asking he took him from my arms, Elvis let him do it. I knew they had liked each other. Just in case, I asked the boy to keep him far from raccoons. SILVIA DAVILA MORALES ®
