The Stray that Became Family
It was July 4th weekend when a young tomcat with a ragged red collar began scoping out the digs on his quest to find love. This bright-eyed, vocal boy was filled with spunk and curiosity. He frequented the area often, and at first, I didn't think much of it; outdoor cats are common in the valley. Plus, he had a collar, so I assumed he had owners that he snuggled up with at night. It wasn't long after that I began to notice he was sleeping underneath my porch, so one afternoon, I sat on the front steps and offered him some of Ruby's cat food. His purring was so loud it was like it sent vibrations through the wood paneling. He did not miss a beat as he chowed down on all the goodies at warp speed. Consuming quickly and what appeared to be on an empty stomach, the inevitable happened, and it came right back up. Despite it all, this boy was one of the sweetest cats I have ever met. We hung out on my front porch for a while as he soaked up all the lovings he could get. My heart ached for him, so I removed his dingy collar with the thought that if he did have a family, they would replace the collar. From that day on, this sweet boy made it a point to say hi to me every day, and I made sure to give him fresh food and water—no new collar and no signs that he had a family to call his own.
It wasn't long before he captured the hearts of myself and my neighbors. Not knowing his past, we all assumed his family moved out at the beginning of July and left him behind. There wasn't a porch without food or fresh water for him to enjoy at his leisure. The running joke was that we all shared joint custody, and this tenacious fella loved every second of it. I am fortunate to work from home, and I would often hear him singing his song to lure out the ladies. I can't help but laugh thinking back on it because it lured me out. Whenever I heard him, I'd go running outside to find him to say a quick hello and give him a snack. He became a staple around the complex and was part of the daily chit-chat, always giving us stories to laugh about, so we all knew he needed a name. That's when my neighbor, Todd, dubbed him Romeo because he was searching for love, and one of his black spots resembles a heart. Vermont summers are stunning but short-lived, so with winter looming, my neighbors and I searched to find him a loving home, but first, he needed to get fixed. The local vet got him on the books for the end of September, so we spread the good word and counted down the days. In the meantime, Romeo weaseled his way into our lives.
A storm rolled through on August 19th, and we had torrential rain that day. I hopped off a meeting to make myself some lunch and let the pups outside. As I began opening the front door, before I even realized what had happened, Romeo came barrelling inside like he lived here. Hilarious chaos ensued as Kuma, Ziggy, and Ruby noticed this furry stranger inside their house. Romeo was inquisitive as he explored but very calm. Clearly, he was someone's pet; home felt comfortable for him. My entire life, I have always envisioned that a stray animal would show up on my doorstep, and I'd give it a home. Romeo not only showed up at my doorstep but made his way into my house, and despite waiting for this moment my entire life, I had conjured so many reasons why I couldn't make this home his. Being a young, mature tomcat, he was inside for about an hour before he started to mark, and by that time, the rain had subsided, so he eagerly went back out. Sure enough, Romeo came back later in the evening for a nap. My heart basically exploded when I watched him sleep—knocked out cold like he finally felt safe enough to let his guard down and get some decent rest.
The following day Romeo joined Kuma, Ziggy, and I as we went for our morning walk, and he's joined us every day since then. It didn't take long for him to become part of our routine and form a bond with the two pups. He would come running when I'd open the front door, or he heard my voice, and he always sat beside me when I took meetings in the backyard. Not to mention, Ziggy could not be more obsessed with him. I often think of the two as Brennan and Dale from Step Brothers.
September 1st, I went out back and set up my laptop to hop on an afternoon meeting, and Romeo popped out of the shrubs to join me and the pups like he always did. I noticed the swagger in his step was missing, and his jaw sat slightly open, drooling as he continuously licked the air. The scrappy tomcat he is, he got into a scuffle and managed to wrap his upper lip around his top canine, and when he would try to close his mouth, his bottom canine was piercing through his cheek. I called the vet, and his lack of ownership caused some confusion, but I got him in first thing the following day. As I dropped him off, I mentioned that I would pick him back up when I returned for Ziggy's appointment later in the day. I still laugh when I think back to that day. I was so caught up in making sure he got the care he needed but never thought through what would happen once he was all doctored up. As I swapped Ziggy for Romeo and started absorbing his care instructions, at that moment, I realized I did not prepare whatsoever to nurse an injured, stray cat back to health for an extended period. Romeo left the vet with a fat lip and a clean bill of health but left his manhood behind.
I've spent my life learning and understanding animals and their needs, both physically and mentally. I was so concerned Romeo wouldn't be mentally fulfilled during his lockdown, so after I rearranged my office to accommodate his care, I hit the road to purchase him his very own cat tree, toys, and most certainly catnip. All this time, I was still convincing myself that I would find him the perfect place to call home. Romeo had a smooth recovery, and we got to spend some special 1-1 time together. I would sit on the floor, and he would curl up right next to my legs, purring, all while having the dopiest expression (which I still see without sedation). Once Romeo was back to his outdoor adventures, his routine changed. Days continued to begin with our morning walks, then he'd check back in mid-day for some snacks and a nap, but now his nights always ended with him curling up in my office, his own safe space to call home.
One morning I went to the grocery store, and as I was checking out, the clerk asked me if cats had attacked my dogs and me on one of our walks. I laughed at the thought of cats attacking us and replied, no, I can't imagine that would ever happen. Turns out, one of the complexes we walk by supposedly had an incident where a tenant's cats attacked someone walking their dogs which resulted in this tenant having to get rid of her two beloved cats. I asked if one of the cats was white with black spots, and she replied, no, but that he started showing up in that area again. It made me chuckle as I replied, sharing the story of his injury and recovery. The clerk then informed me that his original family moved in at the beginning of July but decided they no longer wanted him, so they gave him the boot and ended up bringing home a different kitten. I left the grocery store infuriated that someone could ever do that to this sweet boy, and his "family" was living in the neighborhood right next to us this whole time.
As summer winded down and fall was in all its glory, I had to get honest with myself about mid-October. My attempts to find him a new home were unsuccessful, but he was still a big part of our every day, and I had grown to love this scrappy, dopey boy. I knew if I ended up finding him a home, it would be so tough to part with him, so he was officially part of the pack from that moment on (although I think he made that decision a long time before I did). When I shared the news with my neighbors, there were lots of laughs because they all agreed that I was the last one to know. Part of getting honest with myself was also figuring out a new name. I felt an odd level of desperation as a female calling for Romeo late evenings from my front porch, so the next couple of weeks, I went through all different kinds of names and compared to my level of comfort calling for him. It wasn't until a Mad River Glen hike followed up with food and drinks at the Hyde Away that my friend suggested Fiddle. Having a plethora of fiddleheads within the shrubbery in my backyard that he loves so much, it felt like the right fit. The nickname was the kicker - Fiddy Cent. One of my pups, Ziggy, is also known as Ziggy Smalls or the Notorious Z.I.G., so it was perfect. I like to joke that Fiddle is the name on his birth certificate because I don't think I've ever actually called him that; it's always Fid or Fiddy.
It was late evening, nearing the end of October, when I got a knock on my door; as I opened the door, a young female I recognized from the area asked if I had the black and white cat. Fiddy was inside, sleeping on the couch next to me as I was getting work done. I replied yes, anxiously thinking someone would want to take him back. That's when she explained a series of events involving his previous owner and the damage this individual was causing her and her family. I learned a lot about his previous life; his first name was Zeus. His previous life was so far from glamorous, and every day I feel so lucky that he chose my pack and me.
Brian, a neighbor of mine, loves animals just as much as I do, and he spends summers growing some of the most amazing fruits and vegetables in his garden. Fiddy would often frequent his house; he would love to sunbathe on his porch. One afternoon, Brian was about to pull into his driveway when he saw us all on a walk, so he drove down to say hi. Apparently, Brian used to invite Fiddy inside his house to hang out and give him snacks, and ever since I "officially" decided this home was his, Fiddy refused to go inside Brian's house. I was dying laughing. Fiddy's applications were closed, and he was no longer looking for a family.
Fiddy showed up seven days before I found out that my heart and soul dog, Kuma, was diagnosed with seizures and a suspected brain tumor. Managing her declining health and all the responsibilities that come with life, Fiddy gives me calm with his therapeutic purring when I need it the most and laughter when I didn't even know I needed a good chuckle. I've never met a cat that purrs more than Fiddy; even the vets comment on it anytime he has a visit. I believe that things happen for a reason, and Fiddy has helped me get through some really tough times over the last few months he's been with us. He is a big boy and has so much wild in his spirit, making for hilariously interesting scenarios. Previous to Fiddy being part of the crew, I've always known where Kuma, Ziggy, and Ruby are at all times. His wild spirit is not one to be tamed, and at one point after I let him out the door for the next adventure, I realized that he had taught me to trust and let go; in a good way. I still have that fear that something could happen when he's out and about, but I remind myself that what he's taught me in these short months is so pure and to hold on to that trust.
Things in my life that are no longer safe with Fiddy around are grapes, spaghetti with marinara sauce, my keyboard, and plants. In Fiddy's world, grapes are the most intriguing thing to exist, and he must find a way to play with one ... or all of them. I'm convinced he must come from a long line of Italians because there is not one bowl of pasta with marinara sauce safe in this house. If you ever get texts or emails from me that don't make sense or come in random broken sentences, it's Fiddy trying to communicate with you. My keyboard is one of the comfier places that Fiddy enjoys. He might even be more intelligent than I give him credit for, and this realization came about when he just about texted "enjoy" to a colleague of mine until I got him out of the way. I clearly should have let him finish spreading wholesome cheer. The pandemic turned me into a plant lady, but Fiddy disagrees with that life choice, so keeping those babies alive is a feat all in itself without getting my black thumb in the way. There is never a dull moment with him around, and I wouldn't change it for the world.
My dream of having a stray show up on my doorstep one day and giving it a home has come to life in the most perfect, quirky way possible, and I hope to be lucky enough to have this happen to me again. Animals are amazing creatures filled with love, spunk, and wisdom, and I will be forever grateful for each and every one that crosses my path. Because of those who have crossed my path thus far, I am richer in knowledge and love. I always learn so much more about myself and what I have to offer in this thing called life. I always envisioned one day I'd be living a life of a crazy, animal-loving lady, and now when I say I have two dogs and two cats living with me in my townhouse, I chuckle and think to myself, I've finally made it.