Is this cat trying to tell me something?

Feline visitor takes the sting out of being alone

Did God send me a messenger or am I just a crazy childless cat lady? You decide.

Thursday I was really in the swamp, bluer than blue, stuck in a loop of video games and naps. Nothing seemed worth doing. Why write? It would just get rejected. Why clean the house? It would just get dirty again. You know how it goes.

After yet another nuisance phone call woke me up, I went for a walk, wearing my stretchy black who-gives-a-rip-nobody’s-gonna-see-me-anyway clothes. Life seemed pointless. I missed walking with my dog Annie, and I just couldn’t decide what to do about getting another dog—or any of the hundred other things on my mind. I had way too many decisions to make and no one to help me make them.

When I reached the area off the side of the gravel road where Annie used to wade in mud puddles and crunch discarded crab shells, I started crying. God, I said. I don’ t know what to do. I need help.

Back home, starting to pull myself together, I telephoned a friend, and we shared our mutual woes. Then I grabbed a new book of poetry (Dorianne Laux’s Life on Earth) and went to sit on my deck.

I had barely sat down when a black and brown cat came out of nowhere and walked right up to me, meowing and rubbing its long fur against me.

“Well, hi, beautiful,” I said, petting my unexpected visitor.

Not knowing its gender, I’m going to use “she” for now. She settled down next to me as if she lived here, and I read her a few poems. She listened attentively, watching with her big yellow eyes.

I had signed up for a 5 p.m. Zoom poetry workshop, so I booted up my laptop and signed in. I was a great workshop, taught by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha. I recommend her poetry and her teaching. So good.

The cat stuck with me through the whole workshop, sometimes stretched out on the hot tub cover or a chair, sometimes perched in my lap, rubbing her chin on the edges of my computer. She was disruptive, but I enjoyed her company.

Weary of calling her “Kitty,” I studied her long fur blowing in the wind and tried out names. I settled on Izzy. I was thinking of Isaiah the prophet, but also asking Is-he a male or female? Is-he my new cat? Is-he a messenger from God? The timing was uncanny, the cat showing up less than an hour after I wept and asked for guidance. If you don’t believe In God, credit the universe or something else.

By the time the workshop ended, the breeze was cooling, and my stomach was growling. When I opened the sliding door, Izzy whooshed into the house. She explored every room then swished around my legs as I prepared ribs, rice, and corn for my dinner. She hung so close I struggled to walk without kicking her.

I should not live with a cat. I’m allergic to their fur. My eyes were already itching, and my nose was starting to run. But, as Izzy made herself at home, I wanted to keep her. It would be so easy. Here is my new pet. But no. Between her long fur and the fact that she probably belongs to someone in the neighborhood, I had to put her outside. I gave her some tuna, the only food I had that was even slightly suitable, and said goodbye. She dug in, hungry.

When I looked later, she was gone. I have not seen her since then.

Since Annie died, the neighborhood cats occasionally stop by for a visit, but none has stayed as long or been as insistent on having my attention. Izzy got up close and stuck her face in my face. She climbed on my lap and pawed me when I was too intent on my computer.

I loved having someone around, even this stray cat that needed a bath and some grooming. And I got the message. Get another pet already. It has been a year. You have been alone long enough. Yes, when you take the new pup in for checkups, you will relive the scene at the vet’s office where Annie died. Yes, the new pet will frustrate you, make a mess, and complicate your travels, but you are a dog mom. Get another dog.

If Izzy had been available and short-haired, I’d have bought cat food and other supplies and called this kitty mine. I could be a cat mom, too.

The dog search has officially begun. If you want to help, know that I have requirements. I’m old, and I get to do that. I’m only interested in short-haired adult females at least two years old, Corgi-sized or bigger but smaller than a Rottweiler, and preferably within driving distance in western Oregon.

What do you think? Do we get messages from God or the universe? Has it happened to you? If we have pets, are we really alone? Please share in the comments.

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How did I end up alone? I didn’t have any kids. After my husband and I retired to the Oregon coast, far from family, he died of Alzheimer’s. You can read our story in my new memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available now at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.

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Sept. 16-22 is World Childless Week. Activities, all online and free, include speakers, panels, webinars, and testimony by hundreds of non-parents. Wednesday’s sessions will focus on pets and how they do or don’t fill the void for people without children. Check the schedule and register for the events you want to attend live or view later.

I’ll be joining the Childless Elderwomen panel on Thursday, Sept. 19 at noon PDT to talk about friendships between parents and nonparents. Have you ever lost a friend when they had a baby or became obsessed with their grandchildren? Me too. Register here for our chat. It will be recorded, so you can still watch it if you can’t make it to the live session.