October 29 is National Cat Day, a day that resonates deeply with me as a devoted cat lover. After months of crafting this story, now is the perfect time to bring it to life. I’ve adored felines for as long as I can remember, starting with the barn cats of my childhood. As an inquisitive first grader, I was bubbling with excitement the day I chose my very own kitten from a litter nestled in the warm embrace of a neighboring farmer's barn. The mother cat nursed her kittens, a rainbow of colors tucked into a cozy hay nest in the barn's corner. I carefully picked up one kitten after another and buried my nose in their soft fur. Mittens, a gray tabby with a striking white nose, chest, and paws, captured my heart. Her scent, a delightful mix of kitten and sweet hay, made it clear she was the one. Even now, the aroma of a kitten evokes cherished memories. Although my mother had a steadfast rule against keeping animals inside overnight, I spent countless hours snuggling with Mittens. Before long, Mittens herself became a mother, and my anticipation grew as my mother prepared a cozy box filled with old rags. We placed it at the top of the cellar stairs, eagerly awaiting the kittens' arrival. My mother had always said, “If we build it, she will come,” and indeed, Mittens came through. Reflecting on it now, I realize what a precious gift she gave me: the chance to witness the miracle of life as her kittens suckled and grew, their eyes opening wide to the world as they embraced the sweet scent of their own beginnings.
Being a cat person or a dog person reveals more than mere preference; it touches on the very essence of one’s personality. According to a Mars Petcare survey, these preferences offer fascinating insights into who we are. The survey consisted of 1,000 cat owners and 1,000 dog owners and found that dog enthusiasts tend to splurge more on accessories and often earn more. They generally embody an extroverted spirit and thrive in high-energy activities, while cat lovers often embrace an introverted, aloof, and creative side, finding joy in music, literature, and gardening. Despite these differences, both groups share an unyielding affection for their furry friends. Overall, dogs seem to win the popularity contest: 62% favor dogs over 39% for cats. However, cats have been sharing our homes and hearts long before dogs.
Cats are remarkable creatures, sharing an astonishing 95.6% of their genetic makeup with tigers and exhibiting similar behaviors—scent marking, prey stalking, and the art of the pounce. Their innate love for hunting, scratching, and playful antics underscores their desire for choice and control within their environment. Contrary to popular belief, cats are not wholly nocturnal; they are crepuscular, most active at dawn and dusk. With their nearsightedness, they possess excellent peripheral and night vision compared to humans, making them astute observers of their surroundings.
Embracing the Strays
Letitia Rydjesky has lived in Randolph since 1959 and in the same house since 1963, developing a warm, compassionate bond with cats. Now in her 90s, she recalls a time when homeless cats were a rare sight in the village. Recently, however, she has witnessed a distressing rise in the feral cat population, describing them as unfortunate souls abandoned by their owners. “I feed big cats and little cats,” Letitia shares, her voice warm with concern. She believes that spaying and neutering are vital steps in addressing the burgeoning cat population. Drawn by her passion, I spoke with Letitia after reading her heartfelt letters to the editor during the cold months, advocating for compassion toward the ferals wandering the streets. In her letters, she urges responsible cat ownership and includes her name and telephone number, often receiving positive feedback and inquiries from people seeking her advice on feline behavior.
“People just let them out without a second thought,” Letitia expresses, her frustration evident. “They think, ‘If they come back, fine; if not, that’s okay.’” Her connection with the first cat that appeared in her backyard remains vivid. She recalls it fondly: a striking black long-haired angora with a white face, white ears, and white legs up to its hips. “The first time I saw what I thought was a him, he emerged from behind my garage, striding like the king he was,” she recounts, her voice taking on a musical lilt as she shared the tale. “He walked right up to me, stopping only a few feet away, and we had our first conversation. He was the first real friend I made among the group.” Letitia's affection for the feral cats is evident as she continues, “I talk to them, but I guess my chatter makes them a bit wary. They’re accustomed to quiet, yet they still come for food. They linger just out of reach, recognizing that I’m there to help. When I step outside with their trays, I call out, ‘Here’s your food. Isn’t that nice?’ They run off for a moment but don’t stray far. I retreat indoors, watching them return when they feel safe again, and I keep my voice low and soothing, reassuring them: ‘I’ll just step back inside now.’ The four that dash in the quickest are mostly black, adorned with their unique white markings. Among them, my black-and-white angora friend stands out as the most beautiful, her tail wide and sweeping. I’ve come to understand that she’s the true queen of this little gathering. She tells the others, ‘Follow me; I’ll show you where to find food,’ and just like that, the connection between us deepens.” Letitia’s heart beats in rhythm with her beloved feral friends, each encounter marking a chapter in her life, woven with threads of compassion and kindness. Her story is not just about tending feral cats but about community, responsibility, and affection; it's also about the reciprocity that completes the circle of life. Letitia says that caring for the cats gives her something to get up for and to look forward to each day. “If it wasn’t for the cats, what would I have to get out of bed for every morning?”
Biggie’s Big Adventure
Cats are highly sensitive to their surroundings and intelligent, independent thinkers. When adversity hit his home, Biggie, a cream-colored cat with Siamese characteristics and gray detailing, pondered his dilemma and decided to find a new place to live despite the deep winter freeze. Sue Systma and her husband, Ken, had recently left for eight weeks to escape the winter cold. They secured everything, including a house sitter to care for Biggie. Without going into detail, they brought dogs into the house despite a strict no-pets policy. Gail Osha’s farm is two miles north of the Systma residence. Osha tells the story, her voice bubbling with energy.
“I go to the barn every day to feed and love up my kitties. It was a pleasant early February morning, and I left the door cracked open. I turned around and saw this beautiful creature walk right in front of me, like he owned the place, and I go, ‘Oh my goodness, hello, beautiful. I can’t believe you. Where did you come from? Who would dump you off?’ Meanwhile, my cats just sat there like nothing was out of the ordinary, watching me as if to say, ‘He's been here. He's one of us. He's been here for a bit.’ I got out the food, and he started eating from the same bowl as the rest. He had obviously been eating with the other kitties, but I hadn't seen him. I told everyone I saw about this beautiful cat someone had dumped off and how I was going to adopt him. Every morning following our first introduction, he was there waiting to be fed with the other four cats. He attached himself to my neutered male, Gray Boy. Everyone got along. He loved the scratch pads, the canned food, and the classical music that plays 24/7.”
Sue Sytsma begins her story by saying “Biggie has good taste in music, food, attention, and care. He loves someone cooing to him and talking baby talk. He's totally a non-aggressive cat, which is probably why the other cats accepted him so readily.” Systma continued with a chuckle, “he had the sense to come to a good barn. About a week after we got home in March, I bumped into Craig Wortman. I said, I'm looking for my cat alongside the roadside. I just want to know if he is dead or alive. I described my cat to him, and he said, ‘I know where your cat is. He's at Gail Osha's barn.’ I said, ‘No, really?’ He said, ‘Yep. I've talked with Gail, and she said she's got this cat that's part Siamese. And she's in love with the cat.’ So I asked for Gail's contact information so I could send her a picture of Biggie just to confirm it was, in fact, my cat. I didn't want to get excited in case it wasn't him. I sent Gail a picture of Biggie, and then I got the videos from Gail. She sent me hours of videos of my cat eating, sharing food with the others, and just hanging out in the barn listening to the music. So I paid a visit to the barn, and sure enough, Biggie came right up to me. He sat in my lap, but he would not even fathom the idea of me taking him. He would sit in my lap, but the minute I moved, he knew I was trying to capture him, and he was gone. We tried coaxing him into an empty garbage can so we could quickly pick it up and put the lid on. We tried using a trap, but he was too smart for that. I brought tuna fish and tuna juice every day for three weeks. We consulted the vet. Every day, I sat with him in the barn for about an hour. He’d sit by me, talk to me, then go from one bowl of cat food to the next. He delighted in having three bowls of food. That’s hard to beat. He had never had canned food, only dry, so this was a big deal. So now I’m competing with Gail because this is like a really good life up here, not to mention the hay to curl up in and his new friends. He had a really good thing going. So finally, after three weeks of coming every day, I went into the barn and said, ‘You know what, Biggie, this is it. I’m not coming back. You have a good thing going here. Gail likes you. She’s accepted you. If I can’t get you, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t come every day like this, you know.’ I said my goodbyes and left.”
Gail was watching from the house. She saw Sue leave, then Biggie appeared from the barn, walked about 25 feet, and sat there looking down the road, almost as if pondering. Gail said to herself out loud, “You're missing your mama. Something is going on in your head.” Sure enough, Biggie was gone the next day. For three weeks, every morning, Gail had reported to Sue, sending a video or a picture and giving a short report: Biggie’s here; everything’s good. Now he is gone.
It had been three mornings since Gail had seen him at the barn. Both women thought a predator might have snatched him. Sue continues her story. “On the third day of Biggie's disappearance, I was coming home from the annual hospital meeting. It was early April, and it was nearly dark. I was at the end of Simpson Road, and for some reason I looked left at a big pile of gray stones and saw movement. What is that? Is that a cat? It was raining, and when his head popped up, his fur was so wet and dark-looking I didn’t recognize him at first. I pulled over to the side of the road and quietly got out of the car. I said, ‘Biggie, are you coming home?’ He looked at me most uncannily, as if to say yes. I said, ‘Okay.’ I’d walk about 30 feet; he would run to catch up, and just about five feet from me, he’d sit down. I said, ‘Come on, Biggie, we're going to do some more.’ We did this all the way to our yard. Now he knows where all the danger was. It’s cold, dark, and raining outside. We both looked like a couple of drenched rats. I wondered if he would come into the house. At least I had gotten him to the patio. First, he walked in circles. He wanted to come in but wasn’t sure if it was safe. I left the door open even though it was cold because I knew he’d never come in if it were closed. I wasn’t into a chasing game at this point. Either he’s going to come in or go back to Gail's. I started puttering around, and all of a sudden I saw him come in very quietly. Wow. And then I thought, how am I going to close that door? He can get out of here faster than I can close that door. Ken was in the living room and called him, and he went to see Ken. Very quietly, I shut the door. Biggie looked back, but didn’t panic. Ken suggested that we keep him inside for a few days, and I replied, ‘You know, if he's going to run away, he’s going to run away. Let’s just let him in and out at his own will. Then he won't be fearful. If we don’t let him out for a few days and then do, he’ll go back to Gail.’ So that’s what we did. We were not sure he would stay, but he did.”
On National Cat Day, let us not only celebrate our beloved pets but also recognize our shared responsibility to foster a safe, loving environment for all cats while respecting their independent nature.