The Cat Colony That Never Transpired

I am so sick of talking about my idiotic, self absorbed, underemployed, whiny life, and the weekly eNewsletter, that it's time to talk about something else. Like my cat.

An embarrassing thing happened, for which I feel much shame. It involves a failed cat colony in my building.

Lest anyone think I'm a crazy cat lady, the colony actually involved expunging my cat to the hallway, kind of like one big Alcatraz, but for cats. For anyone that knows my cat, he's a terror. A simple, furry hug one moment, and an Oh-Gosh-Where-Did-I-Put-That-Neosporin- hunt the next. Sure, he looks adorable, and innocent from all the self absorbed coverage I've given him, but the fact is that Koji cannot be trusted.

Over the years I've more or less kept Koji's bad behavior to myself, lest I face embarrassment, and old as time nurture vs. nature debate. Surely Koji must be the product of years of bad parenting, executed by yours truly? Perhaps I fed him too much, or didn't play with him enough, or provide enough toys, or enough discipline. Perhaps instead of videotaping him when he jumped from couch, to ceiling, I should have been telling him not to engage in dangerous, reckless behavior.

In any case, here I am, the shamed parent of a 10-year-old son with bright brown eyes whom is slamming his body against the office door as I type this. Should I not be responding to his cries, playing yet again with the wand, and magic dangling catnip filled fish? If I were a better parent would I get away from this damn computer, and engage in constructive, informal play with my son, whom has grown up before my eyes, and is now like in the body of an old man, carrying all the bad habits I assisted him in developing like a badge, or an albatross, depending on the day, and his mood?

And so, it was this weariness, and overall sense of defeat from dealing with him myself over the years which led to my seeking out other playmates for Koji. I looked no further than my neighborhs, whom have a small black cat, a perfect play mate of the same species whom I imagine would be a better fit for hanging out with 18-plus hours each day.

In the beginning, things were close to utopian, that thrill of having both had tough past lives in the alleys, fending off rats, and then being carted from shelter, to shelter, and then finally in the hallways of a new building meeting somebody that looked just like you, and could hang out with you almost as if you had both floated in the same sea before birth was pretty intense.
Salem, and Koji, oh did they play! I have many photos of their early days together.

Soon, the visits became more frequent. It was almost as if they each hated their respective apartments so much - and perhaps, their parents-- that they began doing whatever it takes to break out into the hallways- darting through a mother's legs while she is in a hurry to get to her tarot reading job- crying all hours, convincing their parents to send text messages to each other coordinating play dates amid the three busy schedules of an unemployed sales professional, an unemployed recent college graduate and dog walker, and a mostly unemployed student that is perhaps still foolish enough to believe he'll get an awesome job when he graduates.

Maybe it got to the point where I no longer cared how much time my boy spent in the hallway, away from me, and his hearth. Maybe I secretly wanted Koji, and Salem to run away together, and visit perhaps on the Jewish High Holidays, and maybe New Year's Eve. Whatever it was, I admit that as a parent I became distracted, lulled by a combination of other priorities, and an instinctive feeling that my cat was truly happier doing his own thing, and perhaps the day-time cat colony would be a change in the right direction for both of us. A healthy change.

That optimism, and audacity of hope has since faded. It came to my attention from a concerned custodian about a month ago that there had been complaints of cats running loose in the halls. Some unkind words were exchanged, mainly from him, to me, and I scurried away with my boy, saddened and disturbed by other allegations I had heard, very inappropriate, taboo behaviors witnessed by neighbors whom perhaps did not know the story of the cat colony, just that there were two domesticated pets leaving excrement in their hallway.

Ashamed, I have locked Koji away in our home since that day, like a tortured Kaspar Hauser, and not the boy that once looked into his girl neighbor's eyes, and declared that his Papa was a Rodeo, too. I have, however, since seen Salem in the hallway, sometimes giving me a soulful gaze as I walked by, perhaps wanting so desperately to be the lucky person to open my door, and spend the remainder of the evening in Koji's company. Salem may even be wondering if I really deserve Koji's presence in my life. On one instance a few weeks ago I became aware of excrement, and, as Koji had not been in the hall for some time, I assumed it to be hailing from the butt hole of another cat, yet cleaned it up on behalf of the colony. I sent a note to Salem's parents saying I had cleaned up cat shit, and was it theirs? Or mine? Maybe my boy had snuck out? Was it possible?

On August 24th, a good 30 days after Koji had been confined to the apartment, I received this note tucked between my doorknob, and the wall.

To the Tenants at XXX-XXX and XXX-XXX W. XXX Ave.
Please be advised that we have received complaints of cats running loose in the hallway. Additionally the halls have been littered with excrement. This is causing a health and safety issue in the building. You must keep your cats in your apartments at all times. Cats can not be let loose in the hallways.

Thank You,
My landlord whom shall remain anonymous, but is awesome

I sent my landlord a note of apology, and a bit of explanation about the cat colony, though I did not use the word colony, for fear of being perceived of another dimension. Rather, I discussed Koji's past as an outdoor cat, and his desire to play with the neighbor's cat, also formerly from the streets.

Now, I'm off to give my boy some love. In absence of a colony I am going to give him something even better: a Family. And quality family time.